Life's Tragedy Number Two COMPLETE
by chrusotoxos
Summary: There is something Professor Snape has wanted furiously, despairingly since his youth - and now it's essential he gets it, since it could destroy Voldemort. So if Hermione Granger happens to be between him and his quest, well, that's her problem...
1. The Blank Book

**Part 1 – THE BLANK BOOK **

_Your thoughts, musing on a sodden brain_

Severus Snape stared at the book for the hundreth time, and the book stared back at him.

Snape, however, refused to lower his eyes first. He hadn't even bothered to pull the book off its shelf. There were only thirty three words written in it, and he knew them by heart.

He stared at the book cover angrily, furiously, hopelessly. Then he lowered his dark eyes and joined his fingers.

Beaten once again.

Maybe he should have read his father's last will, before murdering him.

Well, it was too late, anyway.

It was ironic, really, thought the Potion Master, getting up and starting to pace in his private chambers.

"Really witty of you," he said, glancing at the secret drawer of his desk where the only surviving portrait of his father was. "_Funny_, one could said."

He had the same conversation with his dead father's picture every time that he thought about the book – about once a week.

"Mother said it was mine. You know that. You had no right. No _fucking_ right."

The picure, safely hidden in the desk and never looked at in fourteen years, didn't reply.

"What did it matter to you, anyway? You never understood one line of it."

Snape stopped in front of the window and looked into the night.

"_I_ was the one…_I_ had the skill to read it."

He placed his hands on the window-sill.

"You said I would have used it for some Dark purpose…well, that was why Rasputin wrote it in the first place, wasn'it? He _was_ a Dark Wizard, after all."

His face was touching the glass, and he wasn't looking at the landscape. His reflection was clearly delineated by the light in the room, but its edges were dim and blurry, as though it was underwater. And he looked so much like his father…more and more so.

"Fool," Snape said through gritted teeth, and closed his eyes.

The memory he didn't want to recall, however, forced its way under his closed lids.

"_Why? Why is it blank?"_

_The dying man on the floor didn't open his eyes. The boy, breathing hard, kneeled down beside him, and shook him by his arm, clutching a red-bound book to his side._

"_Why? _Why?"

_The man still didn't move. _

"_Father…" said the boy, closing his hand on his father's arm._

"_Severus, son…" whispered the man, slowly raising a hand to his mouth to rub the blood away. "You are mistaken. You will find out, some day."_

"_I didn't want this, father, you know I didn't."_

_The boy was paler than his father, his black hair falling wildly on his shoulders._

"_The Mudbloods-"_

"_Enough of this nonsense," coughed the man on the floor, and reached up to cover his son's hand with his bleeding one. " That book is too dangerous for you now. You will be able to read only when-"_

_He stopped and spit out some blood. He was barely breathing, and when his head touched the floor again, his eyes rolled in their sockets._

_Severus Snape stood kneeling beside the dying man feeling contrasting emotions running through his body. He couldn't believe what was happening…his father was dying, he had killed him to get at this one book, and now it was perfectly useless. _

_He didn't notice when the man in front of him stopped breathing. Nursing the book in his arms, he stared at the blank wall, thinking…thinking…_

Snape shook himself out of his reverie. His father was dead, he had had nightmares about that night just one time too much, and he certainly didn't need to remember what had come afterwards.

He crossed the room and went to his bed, closing his hand on the glass of Dreamless Sleep Potion waiting for him on the night table.

**A/N** _Hi! This story is already finished; it has 21 chapters which will be posted every three or four days - if you want a hint of what is coming, everything is hidden in Majakovsky's poem _A Cloud in Trousers_. Well, not everything, maybe grins. I tried to keep my Snape as canon as possible, and that gave an unusual love story...why don't you discover it? _


	2. The Unfinished Homework

_Part 2 – THE UNFINISHED HOMEWORK _

_like a bloated lackey on a greasy couch._

At the same moment, in the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione groaned.

Harry and Ron, who were playing chess in front of the fire, didn't notice.

Hermione glared at them and groaned more loudly.

« Something you'd like to share ? », asked Harry, without raising his eyes from the game.

« Yes, Harry, dear. », she answered, smiling sweetly at him.

« Not the ruddy book again. », said Ron, raising his eyes and looking at her in disbelief. « We're not doing that, Her-my-ninny. »

« Please. _Please._ », she said, getting up and walking towards them. « I have to finish this essay for Monday, and I still need to know how many rooms the castle has.»

« Who cares ? »

« _I _care. »

« I don't understand what you don't go and check in your favourite book. », Ron said, mockingly.

« Because -», she started to say.

« -the only copy of _Hogwarts : a History _ holding this information is the fifteen-thingy edition. », finished Harry, in a high pitched voice.

« So, please, Harry and Ron, », continued Ron, in the same girlish voice, « why don't you risk your neck and check the only copy of the book, lying in the Greasy Git Collection ? »

« This is not what I asked ! », said Hermione, indignantly.

« Of course it is. He already said no to you, it's clear he doesn't want _you_ close to his books. I fail to see how he would like _me_ close to them. »

Hermione looked down at him, deeply annoyed.

« You know where the Invisibility Cloak is. », Harry said, moving one of his pawn on the wrong case.

« Yeah. », Ron said. « You go ahead, and we'll be right here, thinking up some nice bit of poetry to put on your tombstone. »

He moved his knight.

« Checkmate. »

Hermione turned and went to her room without looking at them.

_God, I want that book_, she thought, dropping into her bed.

_And I know the password for his personal chambers_.

Now, where had _that_ come from ? She wasn't like Harry and Ron. She wasn't reckless. She wasn't nosy.

That was true though : she had seen Professor Mc Gonagall using the password the day before. Of course, it didn't mean that she had to use them to sneak into his room in the middle of the night. Of course not.

If she was going to do something, however, she had to act quickly. Snape was paranoid enough to change his wards every ten minutes or something.

Quite suddenly, as though following instructions, she got up and went back to the common room.

Harry and Ron were putting all the pieces away, happily talking about Quidditch. They looked up when they saw her reappear.

« Unlike you two, I am a true Gryffindor. », she said, putting her hands on her hips. « Harry, give me the stupid cloak. »

Ron goggled at her, open-mouthed, while Harry smiled and went to his dormitory.

« Have you thought about that, Hermione ? », he said, when he was back. « Snape's not going to like it. »

« He's not even going to find out. », she replied, putting the Cloak on her shoulders.

The corridors were black and silent. Hermione shivered in her dressing gown, and wondered again why exactly she was doing that. But she _ had_ to. Snape was so unnerving. He was not happy enough about being the only teacher to despise her – now he wanted to disrupt her other lessons, too, by refusing her the single book she needed. She felt a rush of anger inside her.

_Bloody bat._

She arrived in front of his chambers, and tried to calm down a little by thinking about the marvellous grade she was going to have in History of Magic…she was bound to be the only one to answer to all the questions.

_Right. Thinks about your grades. Breathe._

« Timaeus. », she whispered, and the black door opened to admit her.

Snape was awake in one moment.

Someone was using the staff password to his chambers.

Someone who wasn't a member of the staff.

Ergo, they were forcing his wards.

He got up silently, and heard the door closing.

**A/N **_Thank you to olka polka, pathatlon (yes, I've already published part of it, but then I changed some things, and now I'm reposting it all) and rainbow fuzzlez for the wonderful reviews! I'm very glad you like it! Sorry if I was a little longer than I said – I have a very good excuse: I was in Venice! Therefore, I'm not repented ;)) – but it won't happen again. Three days, I swear! And, I've a little gift just for you who waited…lying around I found an hint of what the red book is…these are the first words, the only ones that are actually written in it. Here they are:_

Grigori Rasputin, healer and magician, welcomes you to his personal diary. You are allowed to step freely into the secrets it holds – but be warned : the way out passes through death or madness.

_So…do you still want to continue?_


	3. To Be or Not to Blonde

Part 3 – TO BE OR NOT TO BLONDE 

_with my heart's bloody tatters I'll mock again;_

Whoever they were, they were not going to come to his bedroom. They were surely heading for the store-room, or his library.

Snape stood quietly by the door frame, hidden in shadow, but couldn't see anything. They were probably using an Invisibility Cloak. And that meant Potter, he thought grimly: his was the only Cloak in the castle, and it was highly improbable that an outsider had broken in.

He moved swiftly to the little desk in his bedroom, and took up a large jar.

« _Apparecio, _» he whispered, throwing some of the golden dust it contained in front of him.

The dust glittered gently into the night, covering every surface of his chambers – the floor, his desk, and a human of some kind moving silently towards the library.

Snape took his wand and followed it. It didn't look like Potter, he thought, as he crossed the room. He had to get close enough to see…

Hermione tiptoed between the shelves, cocking her head right and left to read the titles. Her heart, which had been thumping madly at the idea of being in Snape's private chambers so late at night, was starting to relax at that amazing sight.

_Books. _

Hundreds of them. Poetry, Charms, Alchemy, History…and in the very back, a shelf with what looked like the most precious copies.

Hermione passed her fingers on the books, smiling to herself.

_And here you are_, she thought, seeing the familiar outline of _Hogwarts: A History_ between a dragon leather bound book and a reddish little volume.

The wish to stay there all night and read as much as she could was killing her, but she knew it was too dangerous.

She put one hand on the spine of the book she was looking for, and started to pull.

« Sleep walking, Miss Granger? » said a smooth voice from behind her.

Hermione jumped and turned round. The menacing figure of Severus Snape was glaring at her right through the Invisibility Cloak. She tried hastily to push the book back in the shelf, and the red volume fell down.

« I'm- I'm sorry, sir. », she said hastily. « I didn't mean to-»

He didn't say anything, and she bent down to pick up the volume.

_Breathe_, she thought, _Breathe. He's only human, after all._

Once everything was at its place again, she lowered the Cloak's hood, and she heard a sharp gasp behind her, and she turned.

Snape was still looking at her, but his expression had changed completely. When she had turned, he had taken a step back. He seemed shocked and scared by her, and it was the first time that she saw him unsure about what to do. His hands were clenching into fists, and he looked like he was stopping himself from moving – if he did or didn't want to come towards her, she couldn't tell.

They stood looking at each other for a very long minute, and then Snape broke the spell.

« Get out of here immediately, and don't come back. _Ever_. », he hissed, in his most dangerous voice.

Hermione nodded, apologies trapped in her throat by the murderous glare in his eyes, and positively ran out of his chambers and back to the Gryffindor Tower.

« _Flamma demanat_», she panted, arriving in front of the Fat Lady.

« As you say, dear. », she mumbled sleepily, without opening her eyes.

Harry and Ron were still up, waiting for her, drowsing off in their chairs.

« Wake up! » she said urgently, shaking Ron. « I'm back – I'm alive – barely, he caught me. »

Both of them stirred instantly and raised their faces to her. And they jumped in fright.

« What – what did he do to you? » Harry asked, very pale.

Ron simply opened his mouth and pointed at her.

« Nothing, not even detention. He must have been ill, » she replied, shrugging off the Cloak.

« _Not even detention _? » repeated Ron, disbelievingly. « So he just turned your hair yellow instead? »

« What are you talking about? »

« Didn't you -»

« Just go and look at yourself! »

Hermione eyed them suspiciously, but went to the mirror.

« Very nice, dear, » it said sleepily, while Hermione gaped to her reflection in mute horror.

Her bushy, chestnut hair had turned into a a perfectly curled, white-blonde mane. Her warm chocolate eyes had now a blue Malfoyish shade.

_Flattering indeed_, said a treacherous part of her brain.

« How-how did he do that? He didn't even _say_ a spell! »

Harry and Ron were standing behind her.

« I never heard any curse with this result. Have you? » she asked, turning to watch at them.

« Let's go to the Infirmary. » said Harry, taking her arm.

« No! » she squealed. « Madam Pomfrey will ask me how I got stuck like this! »

« Hermione, » said Ron, taking her other arm, « She once saw you arrive with a cat's face, and she didn't ask anything about that. »

« Yes, but -»

The boys ignored him and pulled her bodily out of the common room. For the second time that night, she found herself walking in the dark corridors against her better judgement.

Harry and Ron, however, were mercifully right: Madam Pomfrey didn't ask anything about her condition. She said dryly that she looked far better than the last time, gave her a cup of Restorative Draught and put her to bed, shooing the boys out.

But when Hermione woke up the next morning, she still had blue eyes and white-blonde hair.

She remained hidden in the Infirmary for three days, swallowing more Restorative Draught and _Verimago_ Elixir and the Chocolate Frogs Harry and Ron had brought to her.

Nothing happened, and the third day she received a note from Professor Snape which requested her presence in his lessons, 'if she wanted to achieve at least a T in her N.E.W.T.S'. She glared at the parchment – she had been doing all her homework the last three days after all – but Snape was right: she couldn't spend the rest of the term with Madame Pomfrey.

Muttering to herself, she put on her school robes and she braided her hair tightly to make it as unconspicuous as possible. Then she got to her feet and made her way to the dungeons, clasping her books in her arms.

**A/N** Thank you to every person who reviewed…I got the feeling there are any of you out there, why don't you drop a line? It's really nice for me to know that this story is not worthless. And I know chapters are short – the next ones will be longer. Next update : February the 6th. The Gryffindor password is a line of Catullus – of his own pale Latin translation of a beautiful Greek poem of Sappho (fr. 31). I do hope someone out there can enjoy the Latin original, or, better, the Greek, because it truly is the most wonderful love poem ever.

1. Ille mi par esse deo uidetur,

_He seems to me to be equal to a god,_

2. ille, si fas est, superare diuos,

he, if it may be, seems to surpass the very gods,

3. qui sedens aduersus identidem te

_who sitting opposite you againand again_

4. spectat et audit

_gazes at you and hears you_

5. dulce ridentem, misero quod omnis

_sweetly laughing. Such a thing takes away_

6. eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te,

_all my senes, alas- for whenever I see you,_

7. Lesbia, aspexi, nihil est super mi

_Lesbia,__ at once no voice at all remains_

8. vocis in ore;

_within my mouth;_

9. lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus

but my tongue falters, **a **subtle** flame steals down**

10. **flamma demanat**, sonitu suopte

_through my limbs, my ears tingle_

11. tintinant aures, gemina et teguntur

_with inward humming, my eyes are quenched_

12. lumina nocte.

_in twofold night._

13. otium, Catulle, tibi molestum est:

_Idleness, Catullus, does you harm,_

14. otio exsultas nimiumque gestis:

you riot in your idleness and wanton too much.

15. otium et reges prius et beatas

Idleness ere now has ruined both kings 

16. perdidit urbes.

_and wealthy cities. _


	4. The Best Thing

_Part 4 __– **TO BE ONESELF IS ALWAYS THE BEST THING**_

_impudent and caustic, I'll jeer to superfluity._

Snape was standing behind Neville, a few steps away from the door, but he wasn't even taking points. He glared down at the boy, his thoughts elsewhere.

_She looks exactly like Cynthia. But she isn't. She _isn't

Uncalled and perfectly unwelcomed , the memory of Cynthia's body laying in his bed, her empty eyes staring up at him, invaded his mind.

_Not now. Not _bloody _now._

The door opened with a soft click.

« Miss Granger. How good to see you, » he sneered, without turning to look at her.

« Good morning, sir. »

Hermione made her way slowly to her place, trying to ignore the sharp gasps of her classmates.

« What did she _do_? » she heard Lavender whisper.

« 'Dunno. She looks _gorgeous_, » replied Parvati.

Hermione hid a smile and sat down, Harry and Ron closing protectively on either side of her.

While Snape was sweeping around them, checking their cauldrons and glaring at their chopped ingredients, nobody actually dared to say anything. But once the bell rang, and Snape bellowed,

« Class dismissed! »

– everyone started to talk at the same time.

Hermione just sat there, feeling in the centre of a storm, while wild comments about her new look flew in every direction. These last three days she had been far too worried about what had actually happened and how she could reverse it, but the sight of Snape had made her realize that everything was, in the end, his fault.

She had sat quietly during the double period, stirring her potion and stealing glances at him moving in the classroom, but now that the lesson was over she fully intended to ask for some explanation.

« Hermione? You coming? » she heard Harry ask.

« I need a word with Professor Snape, » she mumbled. « I'll join you later. »

Harry looked worried and Ron downright scared, but both of them followed the chattering crowd out of the room.

Snape was sitting at his desk, grading papers. She was pretty sure he knew she was there, yet he ignored her.

She sat at her place without speaking, playing nervously with a loose lock of her blond hair. She hoped he would speak first, but apparently he was firmly determined not to.

« Professor? » she said eventually.

He didn't look up.

« Professor Snape, I was just wondering- »

« For once in your life, don't, » he answered softly without raising his eyes.

« It's just that Madam Pomfrey didn't find any counter-curse, and as the book was in your library- »

He interrupted her again.

« Book? What book would that be? »

Hermione bit her lip. His voice was softer and softer, but he still wasn't looking at her.

« The red one, sir, » she said.

She had been thinking about that, and had come to the conclusion that one of the books was cursed. She couldn't see any other explanation. She was pretty sure her hair and eyes had changed after she had touched the little red volume next to the 1546 edition of _Hogwarts: A History_.

« What book would that be? » he repeated dangerously.

« I don't know, sir, » she answered truthfully. « It wasn't the one I was looking for. It just fell down from its shelf. »

He didn't say anything, and his quill started moving again on the papers in front of him.

« I would-I would like to know, » she said eventually, « what could reverse the spell, sir. »

« Why would you in the first place? » he muttered. « If anything, it's an improvement. »

She gaped at him. _ How dare he?_

« Being myself again would be a better improvement, » she said dryly, closing her fingers nervously on her tights. « To be oneself is always the best thing. »

The quill stopped dead and for the first time he raised his eyes and looked at her. The expression in his eyes was beyond what she had ever seen before. He looked as dangerous as he had been in the Shrieking Shack, but this time he was perfectly calm – and that made Hermione even more nervous.

« 'To be oneself is always the best thing'? You silly girl, do you really think you know? »

His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it went through the empty classroom like a strong and cold rain.

« And anyway, you have no choice, » he continued, matter-of-fact, the murderous shadow gone from his eyes. « There is no counter-spell. Now get out. »

Hermione would have objected, but the look on his face had been so scary that she started gathering her things without another word. When he had that softness in his voice and that sparkle in his eyes, she was always reminded of what Dumbledore had said to Harry…

_Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater._

She didn't want to think about that alone in a classroom with him.

« Good evening, sir, » she muttered under her breath, fleeing the room.

He knew something, though, that much was clear. She couldn't force him to tell her anything, but someone had to. She really had to go and see Professor McGonagall.

**A/N**_ First of all, OOOOPS! It had completely slipped from my mind to thank my beta thus far, Fayth (it's because of her that you didn't find any English mistakes so far…but that won't last, be warned…). It is also because I found her challenge on WIKTT, which matched this story, that I decided to publish it – so, thanks Fayth. For non-members, challenge was called _Voldermort's Bargain_. Terms were:_

Voldemort has a sneaking suspiscion that Severus Snape isnt 100 loyal to him (duh!)

But the sneaky Professor has more Skills than Voldemort wasnts to lose. so he makes a bargain with Snape.

In appreciation for his loyalty and to ensure that Snape stays that way.

If he'll betray the Order Voldemort offers Snape the thing that he wants most in the whole world- Hermione Granger.

Next, thank you everyone who reviewed, it's really nice to know you're going on.

**duj** – you're far too perceptive, but the truth is simpler: Ron is half-asleep, and 'yellow' is the best term he can come up with. Oh, and I've seen your profile and I'm awed at your determination and bravery…these are the real life's battles against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…

**Pathatlon** – well, I won't tell you, why should I? ;)) And Dumbledore will be in the next chapter, and try to sort this mess out…but I won't let him :D

**insipidangst** – didn't really understand if you were talking about my writing or Majakovsky…I'm flattered, but he deserves praise far more than I do…

Next update: February the 9th


	5. A Russian Fairytale

****

Part5 – A RUSSIAN FAIRYTALE 

_No grey hairs streak my soul,_

« Severus. How pleasant to see you. Lemon drop? »

Albus Dumbledore opened the box, his eyes twinkling.

« I really don't think so, » replied Snape dryly, making no move to sit down in one of the cosy armchair of the Headmaster office.

« How do you like Hermione's new style? » asked Dumbledore, smiling.

« Did she change it? » Snape drawled.

« Indeed she has. And I was told that you had something to do with that. »

« You know the truth already, Headmaster. Spare me. I feel too old to play hide-and-seek again, and you definitely are. »

Dumbledore joined his fingers and opened his mouth to reply. At that moment there was a loud knock to the door, and Minerva McGonagall stormed into the office.

« What-did-you-do-to-her? » she said angrily, walking towards Snape.

« Minerva… »

« No, Albus. Hermione has just told me that he was with her when the change appeared. »

She turned to stare at her colleague.

« Oh, good. Did she happen to mention what she was doing in my private chambers in the middle of the night, then? I didn't talk to her myself. »

Dumbledore stared at him, but Professor McGonagall just scowled.

« She only needed a book, Severus-»

« A _book_? She just needed a _book_? Minerva, there is a good reason if students are not allowed in my personal library, » he said softly, glaring at her.

« A good reason indeed, » added Dumbledore, a worried light in his blue eyes. « So that's why. »

« That's why, » confirmed Snape, sounding unconcerned.

« What's going on? What are you talking about? » asked Professor McGonagall, her head tilting from one to the other.

« That will be your pleasure, Headmaster, » said Snape, making ready to leave.

« Severus, I request you stay. Minerva, sit down. »

Both of them took place in the armchairs, Snape looking perfectly bored, McGonagall slightly scared.

« Minerva, you do know about Grigorii Rasputin's Diary, don't you? »

« Of course. But I hardly see- »

« History books say the only copy in existence has been lost during the Russian Revolution. »

« I am aware of that. »

« Well, let's imagine a very romantic and sad story. »

« Headmaster, this entire event is ridiculous enough without the wrapping of your storytelling, » Snape tried to protest, but McGonagall silenced him.

« Let's imagine, » Dumbledore continued, « that one of the Zar's officer, a wizard, a Potions Master, was entrusted with the keeping of the Diary. And that, after having fought bravely against the Red soldiers, he managed to escape with his young daughter – and Rasputin's writing. »

Snape looked firmly out of the window.

« But let's imagine that they are arrested – using magic is too risky, since wizards on both sides are on the alert. They're made prisoner, and a young revolutionary finds the Diary, and is given the order to destroy it. »

The silence was complete.

« But the young man, an English citizen working for the Reds, understands the value of the book and helps the enemy Officer and his daughter to escape. Togheter, they manage to cross the country at war, and come near the border. But now, » and Dumbledore's voice dropped to a whisper, « they are ambushed. And the White Officer is shot. He's going to die. And he knows that his daughter, a member of the Russian aristocracy and a witch, has no chance to escape without the young soldier's protection. But how can he trust him? How indeed… »

Professor Dumbledore's voice faded away, but was soon replaced by Professor McGonagall harsh whisper.

« How? »

« As I said, » continued Dumbledore, looking like he was having the time of his life, « the White Officer is a Potions Master. And he carries a short supply in his pocket. And among them – a Love Elixir. »

« If this becomes even more pathetic, I'm going to be sick. »

« Shut up, Severus. »

« The Officer tricks the soldier into drinking the potion, and the young man falls instantly in love with his beautiful daughter. He manages to escape with her abroad, he comes back to England. And when he finds out that she is a witch, she confesses her his most hidden secret – he's a wizard too, a renegade Unspeakable who had set forth to help the Reds. The girl, bound by her father's promise, is compelled to marry him, but the marriage is very unhappy. The Red rebel and the Russian Lady could never find a way to live with each other. And the Love Elixir eventually wore off. »

« And Rasputin… »

« Rasputin's book was bound to the family forever. It was kept hidden, but was never forgot. And years later, when a son was born, the Russian Lady prepared him to receive his heritage – and to make use of it. »

« Make use of it? » said Professor McGonagall alarmed. « But that book must have been filled with Dark spells! »

« Not just 'Dark spells', Minerva, » Snape said quietly. « But the most powerful knowledge on Dark Power ever achieved. »

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand – and then her eyes came back into his, and her face alighted of sudden understanding.

« You? » she whispered, disbelievingly, « You were that child? »

He didn't even bother to nod.

« But- Where is the book now? »

« At Hogwarts. But it is blank, » said Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall looked as if she was trying to put everything back into place.

« Why? »

« Because my father charmed it. »

« Severus' father came to me the moment he knew that his son had got the Dark Mark. He was very worried about Rasputin's knowledge falling in Voldemort's hands. »

Professor McGonagall flinched in hearing the name, whereas Snape contracted his muscles to avoid checking his Mark.

« He would have given the book to me, but it was enchanted to come back to the family members. He decided, therefore, to protect it with a series of powerful spell. Severus has worked on it since his youth, and has managed to break every one of them – except the last one.»

« Which basically says, as I have no wish to skip my dinner, that I have to sleep with a willing Muggle-Born before the book can be read again, » said Snape, getting to his feet.

Professor Mc Gongall stared blankly at him.

« The book reacts to the touch of a Muggle-born witch by transforming her physically into ressembling one of Rasputin's favourite. This appearance won't wear off until she dies – or until the spell is broken, » concluded Dumbledore.

« Wait, » said Professor McGonagall, breathing hard through her nose, « Wait. So you're saying that this – this – _pureblood_ here was too racist to activate the spell before now, and the previous girl is dead -»

« She was the last time I checked, » murmured Snape.

« - and that _Hermione_, » she continued loudly, ignoring him « is going to be the new one? And that _you_ will _fucking allow this to go on_? »

She turned towards Dumbledore and glared at him.

« _I won't allow one of my student to be violated by this- this-_, » she bellowed, gesturing towards Snape.

« Breathe, Minerva. Didn't you listen? It has to be consensual for the spell to work. There is no need to violate her – she will give herself to me _willingly_. »

She looked at him, fuming, but he was already gone.

**_A/N_** _So. The great secret is out – Hermione is not Draco's secret sister after all. It's a pity, isn'it? _

_For the younger ones out there, Snape's parents lived at the time of the Russian revolution (which took place in 1917) – yes, I know they seem a bit old, but if you think a witch lives till 150, it's only logical that she could have a child till her 70s. _

_So, the Russian revolution: it occurred in the middle of World War 1, and opposed Red soldiers (leaded by Lenin and others) and White soldiers (people loyal to the Tzar). In a nutshell, White people were a bit angry with Red people because basically they wanted to annihilate the Tzar dynasty and the whole aristocratic system, while Red people were very angry at the Tzar for keeping Russians in a state of great poverty and moreover starving them and killing them by millions in the meaningless conflict that was World War 1. Ok, now I'm ready for flames…but seriously, if someone wants to disagree _in a constructive way_ with this, please do._

_Oh, and A/N number two: don't be alarmed and/or horny, I won't use this story merely as a pretext for senseless sex scenes all over Hogwarts. It won't be like that._

**_Natsuyori_**_, thank you for having reviewed gasps twice in two days!_

**_duj_**_, thank you for your reviews, they're always so nice; as for what it does mean to be onself, well, you're perfectly right. Opposition between Art and Nature is, after all, one of the most debated subjects in philosophy. Although I like the idea of acting according to one's instincts, these instincts have to be refined, in my opinion, and I rather agree with Robert Browning when he says that _Ignorance is not innocence but sin. _Dilbert has a cool view on this subject, too, but I've not my book here, so I'll save it for later on ;)_

**_GeekGoddess1_**_, thank you and yes, me too, I hate reading on and on a story when you don't know wheter it will be finished or not…_

Next update: February 12th


	6. The Epona Spell

Part 6 – THE EPONA SPELL 

_no grandfatherly fondness there!_

Snape's black cloak disappeared through the the door, and McGonagall was left without a target for the insults she still had on her tongue.

Well, if one excepted the Headmaster, anyway, and the Transfiguration Professor wasn't very inclined to do so at the moment.

« Explain, » she said drily.

« Unfortunately, Minerva, there is very little to explain, » he replied.

« So you're just planning in letting him go ahead? »

Ignoring the disbelief in her voice, he reached for a Chocolate Frog and began to unwrap it.

« Why did his father do that in the first place? » she asked again. « Sex magic can be very easy to manipulate, and it's often completely uneffective. »

« Not this time. And don't forget that this spell was not meant to be reached. It was thought to be a last, powerful defence if everything else had failed – and I, for one, didn't think that it would. »

He put the sweet into his mouth and chewed it musingly.

« Excellent taste, » he said finally.

« Albus… » replied McGonagall, flashing her dark eyes at him.

« Seven wards – and most of them involved Dark Magic of the most powerful kind. Severus' father was, after all, an Unspeakable. He knew his matter well. And he knew his son well. »

A sad light appeared in Dumbledore's blue eyes.

« While Severus overcame the first six, submitting himself to years of extensive research and unbearable physical pain, he was eventually stopped by the seventh. I believe he reached it during his last year as a Death Eater, and in the beginning he was relieved. A simple variation of the Epona charm – a drop of semen would activate it. »

Dumbledore lowered his eyes on the card in front of him. Sorceress Morgana waved at him, and he smiled fondly.

« But the Epona charm, as all Celtic charms, has several strings at its bow, and Severus found himself uncapable to overcome them. The girl had to be completely willing, for one. In this case, she had to be a Muggle-Born. And you were right, Minerva: his first problem, at twenty-two years old, was to bring himself to bear the mere _presence_ of a Muggle-born. He certainly wasn't ready to seduce one, let alone allow one to touch him. »

Minerva McGonagall's mouth was so tight it had practically disappeared into her face.

« His first – and last – attempt to break the seventh spell is buried in a Muggle cemetery. I believe the Muggle police is still trying to find the killer. »

« And you _hired_ the man, Albus, » she said after a short silence.

« He turned spy for us, Minerva, at great personal risk, when nothing compelled him to. He's done more to protect the wizard community – and the Muggle-born part of it – that many of the Order. »

« Yes, but still! » she replied impatiently, « How can you trust him? »

He passed his long fingers through his beard and didn't answer.

« Have it your way, then. But I don't want him near Hermione for the next two years, » she said, getting to her feet.

« I do everything in my power to ensure the safety of my students, Minerva. »

She glared at him and left the office.

When Hermione saw her storming into the Great Hall and take the farthest place from Snape, her heart sank. So it hadn't gone well.

« What did he say? » was asking Harry, from her right side.

Hermione had gone directly to the library after her conversation with Snape, partly to calm down and partly to start a research of her own about her condition.

« Nothing, » she said, truthfully. « He said it's going to be permanent. »

« Well, that wouldn't be too bad, » said Ron through a mouthful of fried chicken.

« Thank you for your support, Ron, » she said icily. « Unfortunately, be as similar as possible to Fleur Delacour wasn't my first objective in life. »

Harry giggled, and Ron had the grace to blush.

« I meant, » he said, swallowing, « that it could have been worse. Look at that Marietta girl. »

It was Hermione's turn to blush. Over the summer, Marietta Edgecombe had been to St Mungo and they had eventually cured her pustules, but the scars were still visible.

Well, she had to admit that being blonde was way better than going around with a scar saying 'Sneak' all over one's face.

**A/N **_Epona was a goddess worshipped by Celts living in France (Gauls), and adopted by Romans. We dom't know exactly what she did, but as she's always with a horse, let's assume she's something to do with travels…Gosh, hope that my University Professor will never find out that I use his lessons to write about Harry Potter…_

_Thank you so much to my four reviewers (ooh, it's getting better, thank you for letting me know that you like it!) – here is the rest of the back history you need. Now, back to the present, and to Hermione's new life…who said that for blonds everything is easier?_

**_Patathlon_**_ You'll find out something in the next chapter_

**_duj_**_ lol, I hadn't thought about that at all…I mean, love is so strange, and Snape is not the worst man on earth, is he?_

**_Natsuory_**_ Very happy to hear it! Please go on!_

**_Gwen Drailemac_**_ Welcome and thank you a lot…updates will always be regualr every three days…_

Next Update: February 15th 


	7. Sweet Draco

**Part 7 – SWEET DRACO…**

_Thundering the world with the might of my voice,_

After dinner, Hermione tried to corner Professor Mc Gonagall, but the older witch managed to melt and disappear in a crowd of Hufflepuffs.

By the time she reached the Common Room, Hermione was fuming.

Definitely bad news, and nobody wanted to tell her.

She tried to ease out her bad mood on her homework, and by watching Harry and Ron playing chess, but it didn't help her all that much.

By next morning, however, most of her fury had evaporated, and her practical side was resurfacing again.

She went to breakfast early, as she wanted spen the morning into the library, and she found herself alone at the Gryffindor table.

Not that she minded it. Last evening had been unbearable, as everybody seemed to consider himself or herself allowed to say something about her hair and eyes. The good news was that most of them thought that she had done in on purpose, and looked gorgeous. The bad one was that they thought she had been desperate to look gorgeous.

_Well, one cannot have everything_, sighed Hermione on her porridge.

When she raised her eyes, she saw that she was not alone after all.

Draco Malfoy was pointedly ignoring her, his father's large eagle owl perched on his shoulder as he unwrapped his usual supply of sweets from home. The bird seemed to be eying him in a very threatening way, but maybe its glare was only a reflection of Malfoy's own arrogance.

Hermione looked at him for a moment – she knew that he had seen her, and she wanted to force him to admit her existence. Wizards noticed unwanted stares a lot more than Muggles, and she was satisfied to see him tighten his lips in his efforts not to look up at her.

Come on…Raise your eyes, ferret… 

Draco's fingers seemed to shake slightly as he started his breakfast, but he didn't raise his eyes, and Hermione took her homework planner out of her bag and started to check on it.

Well, there was at least _some_ good news: the previous evening, between the praise of a Wonky Faint and a complaint about the Christmas shopping, Harry had managed to remember that Professor Binns had changed his mind about his homework. Quite unexpectedly, he had surrendered to the class' pleading, and he had decided that they could leave the essay about Hogwarts' history until after Christmas, focusing instead on the Wizengamot founders. Hermione had been very relieved to hear this. She didn't dare to ask Snape for the book again, but she hoped she could find it in the British Library – the History of Magic section, invisible to Muggles, was quite impressive.

When she came back for lunch, after five useless hours spent in the library, the boys were already at the Gryffindor table, looking as though they had just woke up.

« Good morning, » yawned Harry, pouring himself some pumpkin juice.

« Urgh, » said Ron, looking at the meat and vegetables on the table.

« Well, 'urgh' would be the right word if you had to eat this for breakfast, » replied Hermione unsympathetically. « You could ask Malfoy for a cake, though. He got plenty this morning. »

« Malfoy is sick, » said Harry, gulping down his juice.

« Hopefully dead, » added Ron.

Hermione scanned the Slytherin table, and saw that his golden hair were missing. For some reason, this bothered her.

« Hospital wing ? » she said, frowning.

« Nope, » replied Ron.

« You wouldn't expect a Malfoy to lie in Hogwarts' hospital wing like some common slug. »

« We saw his daddy's carriage at the gates some thirty minutes ago. »

« So you two were awake thirty minutes ago? One wouldn't say, » she replied absent-mindedly.

Malfoy's carriage...had Lucius Malfoy been in there? Hermione shuddered. She didn't want to think that Lucius Malfoy had been inside the castle. The man had bribed his way out of Azkaban during the summer, and the very idea of being so near to him made her sick…and very scared.

Draco usually pretended not to be scared by his father, but when he was alone with him he didn't even bother to pretend. The mere effort to stand was taking most of his energies.

« Are we understood, son? » asked Lucius Malfoy for the second time.

« Yes. But I still don't see why- »

« We are at war, Draco. Must I spell it out for you? » drawled the blond man sarcastically.

Draco Malfoy lowered his eyes.

« You will continue your education here with your mother till my return. And you won't write to anyone without your mother's approval. »

« How long will that be? » said Draco, wounded by the coldness of his father's voice. It wasn't as though he was trying to fail him, was it? He had eaten the poisoned sweets as he had been told to.

« Not long. A few days. »

Lucius Malfoy reached for his son and put a long-fingered hand on his shoulder. Smiling down at him, he slided it towards his neck, along his jaw, while Draco wondered what would come next. His father's hand was now resting on his blond hair. With a sharp pull, he took a dozen hairs from his son's head and hid them in one of his pockets.

Draco hadn't even flinched at the sudden and stinging pain, and Lucius smiled again, his mind elsewhere.

Brewing Polyjuice had been a very long and tedious job, but he no longer trusted Snape to do it and shut up about it. Of course, he had been doing the Dark Lord's Strenghtening Solution for over a year, but something about the Potions Master bothered Malfoy.

And now Snape had ran out of the main ingredient, and Malfoy had been given order to take care of it.

Lucius Malfoy was usually entrusted with this kind of shopping because he was handsome and charming enough to convince any girl to follow him without questions, but for once his errand was going to be a little more challenging.

Voldemort had hinted that he would have liked to have a particular blood, this time.

It had been long since he hadn't tasted a Hogwarts' student.

Dumbledore's eyes were sharp, but the stake was still worth a try.

Dumbledore's eyes were indeed sharp, and he knew why Snape had come to his office before his Potions Master had even opened his mouth.

« No, Severus, » he said sternly. « You know I cannot grant you this. »

« Grant _me_, Headmaster? » Snape looked him right in the eyes. « It would hardly amuse _me_. I would accept to go through it as it could supply so many useful informations for the Order. »

« Even if- »

« There is no doubt about that. Rasputin's Diary will reveal the secret to destroy the Dark Lord for the last time. »

« And the one which will keep him alive forever. »

Snape frowned, an unspoken question in his dark eyes.

« I do trust you. But I'll take the liberty to keep the book on my desk till Hermione takes her N.E.W.T.s, » answered Dumbledore, crossing his fingers.

« Two _years_? You must be joking. If she were willing- »

« It would make no difference. You are her teacher. »

« We are at war, Headmaster. »

« It is no reason not to live up our principles, » answered Dumbledore calmly.

Snape glared at him, but didn't voice what he was thinking.

My principles have nothing to do with this. Nor have yours, deep down.

**_A/N_**_Hi everyone! So this is a crowded chapter, hope you like it…Simply love writing about Lucius Malfoy…And as I was posting this, I noticed that my reviews' page states "Page 1of 2" and I fell off my chair… rubs her head in disbelief…I'm very happy that you like it, and I hope you'll stay with me till the end…some 15 chapters are still waiting for you…_

_Thank you a lot to **Natsuory**_**_Gwen Drailemac_**_ and _**_pure-undead-pyra_**_ (I don't understand your nickname but sounds revolting, lol)._

**_kuri-the-healer_**_ – nobody needs to activate it. The book reacts to the touch of a Muggle-born witch. After his first failure, Snape hid it away, and Hermione is the first one to touch it since the eighties. It obviously doesn't react to Snape's touch, or Dumbledore's, because they're both Pureblood. I this fic, anyway, I don't think we know for sure in canon, do we? Snape was in Slytherin, but so was Riddle…_

**_K_****_ylala-San_**_ – woow, thank you! And this gives me the opprtunity to make some egoistic ad…my other fic is on too, it's called Obliviate! And is also starring in canon (hope so) Snape, Hermione, Harry and Ron. I'm just saying this for a bit of random and polite conversation, obviously, I don't want you to go and read it…lol_

**_zuz_**_ – because I've been rightly advised not too. If I do, people won't see it, as it has happened for my first one. So sorry, but I'll be regular with updates._

**_duj_**_ – sorry, I tought it was implied in that sentence. But then, my English is not perfect. Dumbledore said that Snape was not ready to 1) bear the presence of a Muggle-born, and 2) to seduce her…I would have loved to be more specific about it, but Dumbledore can't talk about Snape's sex life with Minerva, can he? Snape would skin him alive…but you'll find out a bit more on this by himself (if I manage to convince him to)_

**_rainbow fuzzlez_**_, please don't cry! Good things come for those who wait (don't you English people say something like this?). Thank you a lot for reviewinf each chapter, you made me fell off my chair – again – when I realized…And yes, I rather like Russian revolution myself, it's a fascinating period. But I'm sure we don't know anything about canon Snape in this sense. The fanon theory I like the most is about his mother being a gipsy queen, but it didn't work here…_

Next update: February 18th 


	8. Sour Lucius

**_Part 8 – …SOUR LUCIUS_**

_I go by - handsome, twenty-two-year-old._

The next morning Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table again, looking perfectly cheerful.

« Probably just missed his pretty mum, » mumbled Ron under his breath, when they passed him on his way outside the Great Hall.

Draco and his relational problems, however, were quickly forgotten as Sunday offered them the bliss of a real day off. Even Hermione was too depressed to continue her work in the library, and agreed to a snowball fight in the grounds.

But Snape's dark figure still lurked in her thoughts, and she entered Potions double period on Tuesday morning even less enthusiastically than usual.

Snape had had the brilliant idea of putting her and Neville in the front row, next to Malfoy and Goyle. She had already endured four periods of pure torture, and failed to see how today could be any better.

« So…blonde today, Granger? Doesn't suit you at all…A shaved head would go better with your personality – sorry, lack of personality.»

Hermione ignored Malfoy's hissing and concentrated on her cauldron.

« What a freak couple, » he continued, staring down contemptuosly at them. « The Mudblood and some _Lemurum_ dung. »

_Dung of _what

Hermione stole a glance from Neville and saw on his face the same blank expression that she knew was on hers. Malfoy chuckled softly.

« I was told you were intelligent, Mudblood…Didn't do your Latin homework today, did you? »

Hermione didn't look up and continued to measure her Beetles eyes with calm, steady movements.

One pound of Beetle eyes…Add them and stir twice clockwise… 

« I was merely commenting on how pitiful you are. Have you looked at Mrs Empty-Head, proud parent of Mr Fatty here? Well, _I_ have and – »

Neville jumped noisily to his feet, quickly followed by Hermione. She didn't even check where Snape was – she was feeling ready to act, to do something. The helplessness she had been feeling for the past five days was forgotten. Goyle went for Neville, and Malfoy got slowly to his feet.

« Come on, Mudblood. I'm quite ready for you, » he whispered.

Hermione slapped him hard across his face, and he didn't parried the blow. She could see his point – standing there, utterly relaxed, his cheek a deep crimson, he was, to her eyes, even more menacing than he had been before. Desperately wanting to affect him, she tried to slap him again, vaguely aware of Snape's silky voice behind her.

This time, however, Malfoy raised his hand and took her by the wrist. His movement had been so quick that she hadn't registered that he had moved his arm at all.

Sensing Snape's glare on them, he didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke plainly enough.

Don't push your luck too far, Mudblood.

In the few seconds Snape took to free Neville from Goyle's powerful grip and turn towards him, Malfoy closed his fingers on her wrist, and she felt the bones snap.

Tears in her eyes, she lowered her head and nursed her broken wrist as Snape took a ridiculous little amount of points from Slytherin.

Without waiting for his permission, she ran to the hospital wing, tears blinding her.

Had she stood behind, she could have seen the musing look Snape had on his face after he'd dismissed the vociferous class.

There had been something very strange about Draco Malfoy. Breaking a wrist wasn't the action of a sixteen-year-old. Snape was reminded of an older version of Draco, of Lucius' quiet imperiousness.

He would most definitely keep an eye on him. The problem was, should he keep an eye on Miss Granger too ?

He still wasn't sure about that.

Well, if he was honest with himself, he _was _sure about it. He was sure that he would do anything to get at that book. And he was ready. He had learned from his mistakes. He could be as romantic, patient and gentle as she wanted him to be.

Another part of him, smaller every day, was horrified to think about Hermione Granger that way – as if she was but a sexual toy. She was no Pansy Parkinson, after all. Her mind was brilliant.

Snape sighed and looked down at the pile of essays waiting for him on his desk.

« Hermione! »

« Are you all right? »

« Madam Pomfrey wouldn't say – »

« You weren't in the Hospital Wing anymore – »

« I'm fine, » said Hermione, bemused. « What's wrong with you two? »

Ron blushed, while Harry said quickly,

« We couldn't find Malfoy, you know, and we thought he had gone to see you at the Hospital Wing. »

Hermione sighed. Madam Pomfrey had mended her wrist in five minutes, but she hadn't dared to come back to Snape's dungeon. Opening a large book on her knees, she listened vaguely at Ron's proposal to feed Malfoy to the Giant Squid.

« Are you reading a _Latin_ dictionary? » he said suddenly.

« I'm not _reading _it, Ron. It's called _consulting_, » she replied absent-mindedly.

Hermione frowned as she found what she'd been looking for. _Lemures_ was how Romans called ghosts; the stupid, evil ones, whom people needed to banish.

She didn't know that Malfoy was such an expert of Roman culture. And there was something stranger still, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

« …why did Neville attack Goyle? » asked Harry over her head.

« He didn't, » said Hermione, her nose in the book, « He wanted to attack Malfoy. »

« Yes, well, » continued Harry impatiently, « What did Malfoy say? »

« That his mother looked dreadful. »

Ron swore and kicked his Divination book all across the room, while Harry frowned.

« And how would _he_ know? »

« He doesn't, » said Ron, closing his fists, « He's just saying shit as usual. »

Hermione's brain finally connected with what the boys were saying and she raised her eyes to them.

« I don't think so… » she said slowly. « He seemed…I don't know, but like he knew what he was saying. »

« And how would he have seen them? » asked Ron, his voice dropping to a whisper as Neville himself came in through the portrait.

Hermione looked at him, but he ignored them and went directly to the boys' dormitory.

« His father is always gliding around in that kind of places, » said Harry, dismissively.

« But Ron is right, » said Hermione, and Ron went pink. « The Longbottoms are in a closed wards, what would Malfoy do there? »

He sounded as though he'd seen them, though. As though he was there when – 

« That's impossible, » said Harry sharply, and Hermione realised that she'd spoken aloud. « He was a child when it happened. »

Hermione looked at him, frowning.

He was…he was…but still… 

After dinner, the three of them went quickly to the library, as Hermione insisted to pick up a book about corporeal charms and Harry and Ron didn't want to let her go alone. They stood near the entrance, bored, as Hermione scanned the shelves purposefully. _Rapunzel's Braid – The Magic in Your Hair_ wasn't at its place, though, and in the end she found it on one of the tables, next to other books about fairy tales, medieval legends – and a Latin Grammar.

_Of course_, she thought, flicking hastily through its pages.

Ten minutes she was gazing dreamily into space, and Harry and Ron had to drag her out bodily.

« Malfoy doesn't know Latin, does he? » she asked, freeing herself.

« I don't think he does. He had bottom marks in that Potions essay about Roman alchemists, » said Ron with some satisfaction.

« Yeah, well, so did we, » Harry pointed out reasonably, and he and Ron argued all the way back to the Tower.

They took place in the armchairs closest to the fire, and Hermione started to read her _Magic in Your Hair_ book.

_Causing baldness to an enemy_...that wasn't it.

_A thickening solution_...nice, but not exactly what she needed at the moment…

« What? You want to practice this Saturday? It's an Hogsmaede weekend! » Ron complained loudly to Katie Bell, the new captain.

Easy Braiding for a Goddess' Style...

« Oh, what rubbish! »

Hermione jumped to her feet, startling the boys. Without looking at them, she went to her room, leaving Katie to peer keenly at the diagrams for 'a Goddess' Style'.

« All alone today, Granger? »

Hermione whipped around. Draco Malfoy was walking behind her, looking even more smug than usual under a cap of white fur. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen.

« Want to lose some more points for Slytherin, ferret? » she said, trying to appear disdainful. « You must have set a record – fist time ever that Professor Snape has taken ten point from his own house. »

« If _Snapey_ tries to protect you again, he'll lose more than the House Cup, » he answered viciously.

Hermione gaped at him, unsure about what to say, but he walked past her and did not look back. She watched him go.

Snapey? 

The only teachers Malfoy had ever teased were, to Hermione's memory, Lupin and Hagrid. She had never heard him be impolite to Snape. And what did he say? Snape had _protected her_? That was how he saw it?

_Ron is right_, she thought angrily, as she resumed her pace, _Malfoy's barking mad_.

Snape had been cautiously following Draco Malfoy the whole afternoon, but the boy had done nothing unusual. A trip to the bookshop, a few Butterbeers with Theodore Nott.

But something was definitely wrong.

He had been looking at him closely those past few days, and he was ready to bet that, unless he was very much mistaken, Polyjuice was being used again. His long years as a spy had given him a chronical distrust and an unnatural sharp eye for body language. He had been trained to notice when someone occupied the body of someone else – just as he had learned to distinguish a man under Imperius from a man faking it.

And one man shouldn't have attempted both tricks under his very nose.

As Draco Malfoy started his way back to the castle, Snape wrapped himself in his cloak and followed him, casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself as he walked.

Draco appeared to have chosen the longest way back, the one circling the lake, and Snape suddenly noticed that the snow wasn't untouched. He was following someone.

And when he saw whom, his heart hastened its pace.

Hermione had, even in the distance, the look of someone who had been wandering around without noticing how wet and cold and deep the snow could be. Her cheeks were quite red and she was lost in her thoughts.

She saw Malfoy coming, but had no time to defend herself.

He bent down on her fallen body, grabbed her around the waist and made ready to Disapparate.

**_A/N _**_Mmmh, what will our dark knight do to save the girl?_

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it's really really nice to know you're there…none of my friends cares about HP, so you guys are the first to read all this…sigh…a grown-up life is sad!_

Lemures_ is the Latin word for 'ghosts', and what is bothering Hermione is that Malfoy is using its Genitive form, _Lemurum _(meaning: _of_ the ghosts), which he shouldn't know…well, which _Draco_ shouldn't know, of course; _Lucius_ does, and he's old enough to remember, or at least know about, the typical mark inflicted to an unworthy woman: the shaving of the head. French, for example, shaved the women who'd slept with German soldiers during WW2. _

_Oh, and Rapunzel, if someone doesn't know that fairy-tale, was a girl kept prisoner in a tower; she used her long long long braid as a ladder for a nice warrior who was there to free her but couldn't enter the castle…_

**_duj_** _yes, as you see you can guess…I've seen you've read the manual too, and really, I didn't have a choice, did I? As is stated in Chapter 19, comma 3, "no third person should be involved in the ship under pain of unleashing havoc on said ship", or something like that…I've not my copy here, sorry… :D And, gosh, you're totally right, white-blond is so not gold! I'm gonna change that. I don't know about the eyes though; sexy Lucius has grey eyes, of course, but bratty Draco? Always seen them as blue…_

**_Nore_** _tchooo! Je suis vraiment contente qu'il n'y aie pas que des amerloques et autres ici…enfin qcun qui peut comprendre notre diaspora de lecteurs étrangers… ;)) Merci beaucoup de tous ces compliments! J'adore Lucius aussi, mais j'aimerais vraiment pas le rencontrer! Et j'ai une révélation rien que pour toi: du français va venir…_beware_…_

_Next Update: Februray 21th_


	9. The Path around the Lake

**Part 9 – THE PATH AROUND THE LAKE**

_Gentle ones! You play your love on a fiddle,_

« And what exactly do you think you are doing, Mr. Malfoy? » came the silky voice of Snape from behind him.

« Apparently she is unconscious, sir. I am trying to help her. »

The glare in the boy's eyes didn't match his quiet and polite tone and by that glare alone, Snape's suspicions were confirmed. Draco Malfoy was way too proud and often stupid, but he had never dared to defy him openly.

_Lucius Malfoy, then. Surprise, surprise._

Snape didn't hesitate for one moment. He had the impression he knew why Voldemort wanted a Muggle-born for the next meeting, and he needed Hermione alive. She was too precious to be an ingredient of a Strenghtening Solution.

The boy was still clutching Hermione with an akward one-armed hug, his right hand closed on his wand. Her head was lolling on her chest, her blond-white hair falling in wild locks on his black-clothed arm.

They formed a very strange couple – one could swear they were brother and sister. Hair of that colour, after all, were really rare, south of Helsinki.

« I am going to take care of her, Mr. Malfoy, » said Snape. « Give her here. »

The boy raised his wand.

« Do you really think so? » Snape breathed.

Then, in a movement too quick to meet the eye, he raised his own wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

« _Crucio_, » he said, and the boy collapsed on the ground, keeping one hand around Hermione's wrist – the one wrist he had broken a few days before.

Snape observed his fake student cringing in pain for some moments, then lifted the spell, almost unwillingly. It had been a very long time since he and Lucius had had a duel, and Snape had never been good in accepting defeat.

Now, however, he had the chance to pay him back. The Dark Lord wouldn't worry, he normally encouraged some constant distrust and struggle between his servants, and Lucius – well, Lucius was probably using his son's wand, which meant he wasn't so powerfyully magic as he normally was. He smiled at that, keeping his eyes on the shuddering figure at his feet.

« You-you bastard, » panted Malfoy, raising his blue eyes to look at the dark figure in front of him.

« You're quite losing your touch, Lucius, » drawled Snape.

« I will make you pay for this, » promised Malfoy, getting to his feet.

The shock of the Cruciatus curse had partially erased the effects of the Polyjuice, and Lucius' longer nose and hair were now evident on Draco's young face. Even as Snape looked at him, he could see his opponent's cold eyes fading in their colour, and it was as though a mask was being lifted to reveal the emptiness underneath.

When blue became gray, however, it was obvious that no emptiness was in there. The face was almost unchanged, yet nearly all trace of Draco's idiotic smugness had evaporated alongside the blue of his eyes, and Lucius Malfoy's gray glare was way more definite and dangerous.

« Let her go, » repeated Snape, steading his grip on his wand.

Malfoy shook his head threathingly, and tried to lift Hermione's unconscious body.

« _Crucio_, » said Snape again, conversationally, and Malfoy fell to the ground again.

This time, he kept the spell a little longer on him, and when he lifted it several things happened at the same time; but Snape's eyes, accustomed to the speed of battles and duels, managed to catch everything in slow motion.

Draco's clothes ripped as they failed to accomodate his father's longer limbs.

Hermione was thrown forwards by the violence of the lifting of Polyjuice's last effects.

Lucius Malfoy's face, still contorted in pain, struggled to put his features back in place.

The blond man raised his wand and casted a spell.

Snape used a second one to pull Hermione towards him.

The next moment, Lucius Malfoy had Disapparated and Snape was knocked to the ground when the unconscious body of Hermione hit him hard on the chest. They both fell down, cutting through the snow like a stone in the water, their cloaks mingling with a soft noise.

A split second later, the world was there again; Snape rested on his elbows and tried to catch his breath.

Lowering his eyes, he realised that he was exactly where he had dreamed to be: lying over her slightly curved form, his tall body between her legs.

His first instinct was to pull away, but he didn't listen to it.

He looked down at her closed lids, and felt himself pervaded by several contrasting emotions.

What if he did take her, after all? If he gave her a direct order, if he explained her why he actually needed to do this, maybe she was going to accept him freely.

She was not as obsessed with knowledge as he was, but she wasn't so far behind him.

And he had just saved her, hadn't he ? She should be grateful. Very grateful.

Snape thought about magically remove her knickers, wake her up and force her in one way or the other to take him willingly. His hand moved onto her face to lift some snow away.

He could have taken her there on the ground, protected by two soft, white walls, and when he would arrive in his chambers again, the book would be there…no longer blank…

Snape felt himself grow hard, and tried to push his thoughts on the right track again.

Before he could succeed, Hermione opened her eyes and stared at him with a strange expression on her face. The dizziness she still felt was quickly replaced by fear and disgust, and Snape realised that she had noticed his erection.

Groaning inwardly, he got to his feet and helped her up.

« Do you remember anything, Miss Granger? » he asked with a snap.

Hermione forced her thoughts away from the unfamiliar hardness between her legs and took a deep breath.

« Draco Malfoy, » she said uncertainly. « He did something funny to me. »

« You were Stunned, » Snape nodded.

They started to walk towards the castle, the dark man melting the snow in front of them.

« I must ask you not to talk about this incident with anyone, » he said suddenly, looking down at her fiercely. « No one, Miss Granger. »

« But-but that was against the school rules-» she started to say.

« If you mention what happened today, Miss Granger, you may endanger the Order, » he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

She gaped at him. That was the first time he mentioned what was going on outside Hogwarts, and the first he actually seemed to care about it.

« I won't say anything, sir, » she promised hastily.

He didn't answer her, and she continued to walk uneasily beside him.

The lake was beautiful in the fading light – that path was the one the couples took, stopping here and there to kiss. Snape and herself – a couple?

_This is not happening_, she thought. _I'm dreaming._

Hermione was so tense she felt she was going to be sick if she opened her mouth again. She was aware of Snape's rigid figure walking slightly before her, and she jogged to keep up his pace – only to realise that he didn't want her to walk alongside him. Whenever she arrived at his side, he would walk a little faster, looking fixedly in front of him.

_I'm making him nervous_, Hermione thought, her mouth dry.

When they arrived at the castle's gates, Snape strode towards the dungeons without a backward glance, and Hermione had no choice but to join the first people going to dinner.

Harry and Ron were already at the Gryffinndor table, and they had saved a place for her.

« Where were you? » said Harry looking up at her.

« Nowhere, » she blushed, lowering her eyes.

« What did you do in Hogsmaede? » asked Ron, chewing some potatoes.

« Nothing, » she said, blushing even more. « How was practice? » she asked, hoping to divert the boy's attention from herself.

It worked; Harry, happily surprised that she would care, started on a long and quite boring move-by-move description of some new scheme they were trying, and Hermione relaxed a little.

She filled her plate with all favourite dishes, and while she was eating she kept staring at the High Table, but Snape wasn't there. He hadn't come to dinner at all, and that was unusal, even for him.

She couldn't help to think about that afternoon, wondering what he was keeping from her.

Why had he been on the top of her, for one thing? And what had he been aroused about?

She still wasn't sure about that part. After all, it was the first time she felt something like that, maybe she had misunderstood. Or maybe it was perfectly normal for every man, even Professor Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge, to have an erection when they fell down over a woman by mistake.

She shook her head and tried to join the Quidditch discussion that was ferociously going on both her sides.

But she knew that the chair next to the Headmaster was still empty.

When she walked back to her room, she was still thinking about Snape. Parvati and Lavender were talking animatedly about some Ravenclaw boy they had met in Hogsmeade, but she ignored them.

She was sure Snape had protected her from Malfoy, but the thought that he could have done it because he fancied her was alarming.

The more she thought about that, however, the more her feelings softened towards Snape. He had been the first one to prove his physical attraction to her, and she couldn't help but be flattered and light-headed about it.

The moment she decided to forgive him, and to see him in a whole different light, she had the bad idea of combing her hair, and as she found between her fingers a lock of Malfoyish hair, her romantic and dreamy mood evaporated on the spot.

Fuming, she charmed her hair into a braid and started cursing Professor Snape under her breath.

She didn't know that at the same moment, Snape was collapsing on his bed, covered in someone else's blood, and that he didn't need any more curses – he was already bearing enough of them, thank you very much.

**_A/N _**_WARNING – WARNING – WARNING_

_Hi everyone, and again I'm happy you like it and want to find out what happens next…but I suddenly realised that this fic is becoming darker and darker…I've checked the bios of people who've reviewed (yes, I'm as curious as a cat…!) and apparently a lot of you are quite young…So here is what I'll do: I'll change the rating to R starting with next chapter. But, there is a but. _

_First, I think that one should read as much as he can, and quite everything. If one has the curiosity to read something, well, than he's ready to read it. As Wilde said, books are not moral or immoral but well or poorly written, and if you consider this story interesting you should go on._

_Second, there will be NO graphic full description of violence, murder, rape or this kind of thing. I do not like describing violence. And you don't need me to know that some people are really not nice, in fiction and out there in the real world._

_Third, about sex…well, my lemons are nothing that I wasn't reading at 14, and I actually think that it's good to read about it – a lot – before you're ready to do it, because it helps preparing and understanding what we want, and what the other person may want, and how to deal with all these things…and mine will be normal lemons, not porno-stars all-perfect no-sweat lemons…_

_So, are you still with me? Let's find out what happened to poor Severus…_

_Oh, and before someone else (hi duj!) notices it, ok, I've checked and it's true that Draco's eyes are grey, like his father's; but I was so convinced they were blue, and it worked so well in this chapter, that I decided to keep it this way. Draco's blue, Lucius' grey. Hope they don't mind…_

**_duj_**_, scary indeed…one can't help to find him handsome, and evil shouldn't be handsome… _

**_rainbow fuzzlez_**_: what does Voldemort know…I promise you'll find out soon…_

**_Circe la Fay_**_, wonderful nickname! Why, oh why, people give up ancient things? sobs unashamedely all over the screen…I hope I'd have the strenght to pick Snape too, at least there is a possibility that he's a good guy…but blonds…sigh…Also, for Russian Revolution, I thought that Snape's mother could have been about 13 in 1917, and that she met Snape's father around 1920. As Snape himself is born is 1960, that would make his mother fifty-something at the moment of his birth…acceptable…_

strega-in-progress, thank you very much! You filled a third page all by yourself, it's amazing! I'm very glad you like it…I'll update it regularly, I swear; I live in Switzerland, that would be GT+1, I think, and I normally post the chapter the evening before the date I mention…so you see, I'm kind…your English seems good to me, are you Spanish? 

Next update: February 24th


	10. Your Former Pleasures

**Part 10 – ONE OF YOUR FORMER PLEASURES**

_and the crude club their love on a drum._

« _Leuconoe_, » spat Snape, arriving in front of his chambers.

The black door seemed to look at him reproachfully – why should such a nice password sound like a curse? – but opened for him all the same.

« Again, I _didn't_ choose it, » said Snape angrily, stepping inside.

When he closed the door behind him he realised that he was talking with a door – worse, he realised that he didn't care.

« I know you don't like it, » he continued, his back to the door, « and guess what? I don't _fucking _care! »

« I must say, you're in a lovely mood tonight, » said a voice from his right.

Snape whipped around, his wand ready.

Lupin was seating in the armchair farthest from the fire, his face hidden in the shadow.

« What-are-you-doing-here? » asked Snape, advancing on him.

He felt so angry, angry at himself for having been aroused by a student, angry at Hermione for having noticed it, angry at Lucius for having fought so lamely, depriving him the satsifaction of a real duel, angry at the Headmaster for his _fucking_ sense of honour, angry at Hermione for having refused him (not that she had, screamed a voice somewhere in his groin), angry at his father for the stupid charm, angry at Hermione again for having activated it…angry at Lupin for being where he shouldn't be.

« You have three seconds before I start on you, » he said through gritted teeth.

« I'll be here till Christmas, » said Lupin calmly, rising from the chair. He was keeping his hands in slightly in front of him, palms up, to show that he had not intention to draw his wand. It could have seemed like a stupid precaution to someone else, but Lupin had known Snape for many years.

« Dumbledore let me in – he said you would have some Wolfsbane potion left, » he continued.

Snape forced himself to breathe, and unwillingly he relaxed his grip on his wand. Some seconds stretched in complete silence, Lupin standing in front of him, palms open, as though he was praying, and Snape with his dark wand still pointed right at him.

Then Snape shrugged, like a dog coming out of the water, and put his wand in his sleeve.

« Of course, » he said curtly.

Lupin watched him, still nervous, half-fascinated, as the dark man opened a large cabinet withusing at least five different spells – some of the potions and ingredients inside it were too dangerous to risk a casualty.

« Here, » Snape said, putting an iron flask on the table with a sharp noise.

As Lupin's hand closed around it, he frowned, then said, disapprovingly,

« It's charmed to be constantly boiling – mind you leave it in a goblet at least fifteen minuted before you drink it, or your toungue will melt. »

Lupin looked at him curiously, and Snape added,

« Of course, that would not be such a loss. »

But the damage was done, and Lupin wondered what had happened that afternoon to lower Snape's wards in that way.

« Do you want to talk about it? » he asked mildly, and Snape stared at him, an unreadable expression in his black eyes.

The moment he opened his mouth to answer, he felt his mark burn. Ignoring Lupin's worried glance, he walked to the door and stormed out of the room.

Lupin sighed and looked around. Dumbledore had told hims something about Rasputin's diary, and he didn't know how to react at the news. If only Severus were a little more…a little less unpleasant and bitter…if only Hermione were a little older…

And what was Snape using as a password? Lupin had a vague memory of it…

He walked to Snape's private library at let his fingers follow the books' spines, looking for a familiar name…and there he was.

Horace. And the poem he'd had to study when he was a boy suddenly jumped out of the black pit of forgotten memories, and he stroked the book fondly.

« _Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi quem tibi finem di dederint, Leuconoe_…Indeed, » he sighed, putting the book back on the shelf.

He took the iron flask from the table and turned to go.

« Good luck, Severus, » he whispered, as he closed the door on the empty room.

The Riddle's house was a corpse. There was no other word for it. Some old and rusty frames were still hanging on the mouldy walls, but the canvas had been stripped down. The old furniture was scattered around the room, looking defeatingly broken like some wounded men left on the battlefield.

Snape walked towards the three men standing in front of the fire.

« You're late, » hissed Voldemort, giving him a strange look that put him on his guard.

That look told him that the Dark Lord knew – that Malfoy had been blabbering about how he had saved Hermione Granger.

And that he was going to be punished for that.

Bowing his head, Snbape took a wary look around, and his heart gave a jolt. The nature of his punishment was waiting for him in the darkest corner of Riddle House's drawing room.

Malfoy smirked at him, and Pettigrew just stood there, closest to the fire, trying to do something with his hands.

« I am sorry, my Lord. It won't happen again, » said Snape, kneeling in front of Voldemort and kissing the hem of his black robes.

« No. It won't happen again, » repeated the Drak Lord, and something in his voice made Snape freeze.

« Now get up and take the ingredients you need, » he added, dismissevely. « They are there in the corner. »

Snape flashed his eyes towards the dark spot. He could hardly see the girl crouching against the wall. So Lucius had found someone to take Hermione's place.

« My Lord, » he said, in what he hoped to be a reasonable tone, « shouldn't Lucius- »

« Lucius has done enough for me already, » replied the Dark Lord, and Snape felt his heart miss a beat: so he'd been right, Malfoy had told…

« And besides, I think you have neglected yourself, lately. You deserve to indulge in one of your former pleasures. »

Snape didn't say anything more. He couldn't escape from that. Getting to his feet, he walked swiftly to the girl in the corner and offered her his hand. When she didn't take it, he pulled her up by her hair, and she muffled a scream.

Before Cynthia, he thought he enjoyed to do that. But since her death, all he saw during a rape was her white-blond hair turning slowly to chestnut as her body grew colder.

In a sharp, practised movement he pulled both of the girl's arms over her head and pinned them to the wall with one hand. Then he ripped her skirt and knickers and opened his own trousers, shutting his ears to her terrified cries.

His body still responded very well to this, he thought idly, as the feeling of the young body trapped against his provoked the familiar reaction in his groin.

Looking into the girl's eyes to avoid looking into Cynthia's last, shocked expression, he opened her legs and forced his way into her.

He knew she was a virgin – she had to be, for the blood to be effective, and he knew he was hurting her a lot. But he had decided not to care about it since a long time, first because he actually enjoyed it, and after because he couldn't afford himself to be kind in front of the Dark Lord. Trying to ignore the looks of the three men on his back, he started to move quickly inside her.

Some minutes later he stopped, panting slightly, to take a bronze knife out of his belt, and he cut some geometric runic symbols into the girl's arms, ignoring her sobs.

It had just occurred to him that Hermione could have been there againt that wall right now, and the thought was half-arousing, but also filled with a deep, bitter sadness. Closing his eyes, he saw what was coming next and he shuddered. No, not arousing at all, after all.

Pettigrew came behind him carrying a vial and started collecting the dark red blood while Snape resumed his movements. The moment he climaxed he slid her throat, and the short balding man put a clean vial to the wound and filled it.

When he finally came out of her, her body slid to the floor and crumbled, her limbs leaning against the wall like a strange puppet suddenly left without its strings. He turned his back to her and buttoned his trousers, trying to catch his breath.

Voldemort snapped his fingers, and the vials Pettigrew was holding sealed themselves closed. Snape reached out and pocketed them.

« And now, » said the Dark Lord, looking utterly unconcerned by the events which had just taken place, « I would like a word with you, Severus. »

Malfoy smirked at him again, and Snape took a deep breath.

« Of course, my Lord, » he said softly.

**A/N **_So, here it is…that was the worse you'll find in this story, but it's not a nice worse all the same. But on the plus side, Lupin has arrived! Nice Lupin. And Horace was there too, so cheer up. The poem is, of course, the most popular one by Horace, the _carpe diem_ one (Ode I.11). With me, you're apparently doomed to classical stuff…Here is the text, enjoy._

Tu ne quaesieris - scire nefas - quem mihi, quem tibi

finem di dederint, Leuconoë, nec Babylonios

temptaris numeros. ut melius, quicquid erit, pati!

seu plures hiemes, seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,

quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare

Tyrhenum. Sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi

spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida

aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.

(Ask not - we cannot know - what end the gods have set for you, for me; nor attempt the Babylonian reckonings, Leuconoë. How much better to endure whatever comes, whether Jupiter grants us additional winters or whether this is our last, which now wears out the Tuscan Sea upon the barrier of the cliffs! Be wise, strain the wine; and since life is brief, prune back far-reaching hopes! Even while we speak, envious time has passed: pluck the day, putting as little trust as possible in tomorrow!)

****

_Thank you to **Natsuory**_**_pricey_**_-_**_blonde_****_Aries1_****_MyxChemicalxRomance_**_ and _**_Portia_**_ (wooow, thank you…not sure I deserve all that…)._

**_Drusilla3_**_I was hoping no one would notice…yesterday evening I was travelling again, and Switzerland has not yet installed Internet in the trains, stupid swiss…_

**_Satia Entreri_**_, thanks! I' trying to keep him as in character as I can…but is he?_

**_rainbow-fuzzlez_**_, oh but you are, LOL_

**_duj_**_ – well, my guess is, a lot of people are looking for lemons in HP fics because we're never going to have any in the actual books…and I include myself in that number. But I can't stand perfect lemons, or scary lemons, so don't worry._

_Next update: February 27th_


	11. Voldemort's Bargain

**Part 11 – VOLDEMORT'S BARGAIN**

_but you can't, like me, turn inside out entirely,_

« Lucius, » Voldemort said, keeping his glare on Snape, « You will forget today's events. »

« My Lord-»

« You heard me. »

There was a very final tone in his voice, and Malfoy dropped his head towards the floor again.

« Severus – walk with me. »

Without speaking, Snape followed him outside, and as they paced through the ruined garden he tried to keep his thoughs as far away from his mind as he could.

« I know you are a spy, Severus, » said Voldemort quietly. « The way you managed to hide it even from me during all this time…clever. Very clever. »

He was actually chuckling, but Snape waited to be addressed more directly. Speaking out of turn could have unpleasant consequences.

« Turn your coat again. »

« My Lord? »

« Come back to me, and you will be rewarded. »

« The situation is currently unclear, my Lord. What would I gain from switching sides now? »

Voldemort looked at him appreciatevely.

« Your life, for one. »

« You know I don't care about it. »

« You are a complicated man, Severus. »

He didn't reply.

« And you have complicated passions. She will never be yours. The old fool will never allow it to happen. »

Snape knew he was referring to Hermione, and wasn't surprised. There were very few things the Dark Lord wasn't aware of.

Why he wanted Hermione Granger in the first place, though, was one of them.

« I could give her to you. »

« It wouldn't be such a tragic loss not to have her, » he said, playing for time.

« There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it. »

« You shouldn't read too much, my Lord; it creates a stain on one's reputation. »

« Oh, I believe that mine has too many stains already to care about one more. »

« I meant Oscar Wilde's reputation, Lord. »

Voldemort laughed, and stopped under the shadow of a dead tree.

« So tell me, Severus: which one do you choose? »

Snape walked slowly away from him, the snow creeping under his feet, and thought about it.

He tried to concentrate on the Dark Lord's proposal – he had to focus, to think about it, if he wanted to live through the night – but it had started to snow. No, to rain, Snape decided, looking up to the black sky. A soft, silent, wet rain, which came down to die on the dirty snow.

Cynthia's tears had been that wet on his face.

But Cynthia was dead.

_She's dead_, thought the boy. And, though it was obvious, though he knew it, though he still felt her silky skin under his fingers, it took him some minutes to understand that he himself had killed her. That she was dead by his fault.

The boy didn't look at her again. He walked away from the bed, half-naked as he was, and he sat down against the door, on the floor, trembling from shock and cold.

He had killed her. She'd said that she loved him, and he'd killed her.

Why had she trusted him in the first place? Why?

_The stupid Mudblood._

As in a dream, he heard a noise of keys outside, and the front door open. Lucius had arrived.

« Severus? » he called, and Snape didn't answer.

Lucius closed the door – but the door opened again with a bang.

« Don't move! » a voice shouted.

« Stay where you are! » said someone else.

« Is there a third way to say it? » drawled Lucius' elegant voice. « It would be delightful to hear it. »

« Shut up. Were are you hiding it? »

Snape moved slightly, his thoughts fighting to form a logical sentence.

_Aurors_, he thought finally, and he passed a hand on his sweating forehead.

« What gives you the right to be here? » was saying Lucius from the entrance hall. « I'll speak to my father about this. »

« Your father will have to waste half of his fortune to buy your way out of Azkaban, sonny, » growled a third voice, and Snape felt some of his consciousness return.

_Alastor Moody_.

« Take him away, » said Moody, and Lucius' sarcastic comments faded.

« Doesn't he live with someone, sir? » asked the first voice. « It's three in the morning. Where is his room-mate? »

« Wait, » said Moody, and Snape heard him flicking through some papers.

« Severus Snape, » he growled eventually.

« Old _Snivellus_? » said the voice again, and this time Snape knew to whom it belonged.

_Sirius Black_.

He knew that he should go out of there – his room was hardly a place where he wanted to be found by Aurors, especially now, with a corpse on his bed – but he simply couldn't move. He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes.

« So he found someone who can stand the smell of his hair. »

« Let's find him, Padfoot, » said another voice, laughing, and Snape knew it was James Potter.

_I should have known_, he thought. He'd heard those two voices often enough in his nightmares, he could have recognized them blindfolded at any time.

« Do you know him? » growled Moody, and Snape heard a noise of heavy steps moving around.

« Same year at Hogwarts. Greasy git, » said Black, dismissively.

« Clever, though, » added Potter.

« Snape…» Moody's voice was meditative. « Wasn't his father some Communist scum? »

« So he was. And he was also, » said a new voice, a deep one, « a dear friend of mine. »

« Professor Dumbledore, » said Potter, surprised, as Moody sniffed disapprovingly, « We didn't know you'd come. »

« I was leaving the Ministry when I met a furious-looking Chief Warlock, » Dumbledore explained, and Snape heard a secret laugh in his voice. « Did you really arrest his son? »

« We've been tracking down Lucius Malfoy for weeks, sir, » said Black.

« He's just made arrangements to obtain an illegal hybrid creature, » continued Potter.

« A unique specimen, half Basilisk, half Runespoor. Highly dangerous. Non tradeable, of course. »

« He was probably fetching it for-»

« I know how arousing blood is, but you kids are babbling about classified informations. This Snape guy could be listening to all this right now, » said Moody sharply.

« Snape? Severus Snape? » asked Dumbledore, just as Potter said,

« Blood? »

« I can smell it from here. It comes from this room, » said Moody, and Snape heard him move and his fingers tap just over his head, on the other side of the door.

« _Alohamora_, » cried Black, and Snape was thrown forwards by the violence of the spell.

He landed painfully on his knees, and had to fight to keep everything in his stomach. He found he didn't have the strenght to stand up. Slowly, he raised his head. Four sets of eyes were staring down at him – three of them despising, one sad. Mercifully, it was clear to everyone that he was not up to a fight. He didn't need to pretend.

« God, » breathed Potter, circling him and going towards the bed. « God. »

« Sir – sir, she's dead, » whispered Black from the other side.

Moody approached them warily, his wand pointed at Snape.

« I'm sure you have a good explanation for this, » he growled.

« I'm sure you'll find one, » answered Dumbledore, taking Snape's arm and forcing him up gently.

The other three turned to look at them.

« Severus Snape is working for me. As a spy, » Dumbledore declared. « Young mister Malfoy didn't know about this girl, and no one else should. »

Snape closed his eyes again. He felt like fainting.

« Alastor, » continued Dumbledore, his voice very far from him, « Please sort this out. Boys, yours has been a long night. You'd better go home. »

With that, he dragged the nearly unconscious Snape out of the room, out of the flat, and Disapparated.

Snape had never known why Dumbledore had saved him. Maybe it was simply because six years before, in a night as cold as that one, he had not moved a finger to help him. Snape had spent the night in the Hospital Wing, shocked and scared to his wits, a sixteen-year old boy who'd seen death for the first time, and Dumbledore had been too worried about Lupin to find a minute for himself.

Snape had never forgot this. And he'd never worked for him before the day Cynthia died, had never intended to. But he had since. He had a debt towards him.

And where had joining Dumbledore got him to? A wretched job, people distrusting him wherever he was, and the skill gained in years of training wasted to terrify teenagers.

And the one thing he wanted had been taken away from him.

Dumbledore would never give him access to Rasputin's Diary, if the way to it laid across Hermione Granger's body.

And he wanted that knowledge. He wanted it badly. That was why he had come to Voldemort in the first place – to learn. Dark magic was fascinating, but good people stood away from it, they even refused to _study_ it. Cowards.

And his betrayal wouldn't mean anything. Hermione would be safer as his lover than she'd ever been as his student, and the Order – well, he surely wasn't the only one spying on the Death Eaters, and once he got his hands on that book he could got away from both sides and find a quiet spot to read it.

The Dark Lord would find a way to give him the girl untouched. She would be safe.

_She will be safe._

_She will be safe with me._

He didn't care about her, of course. But she would be safe all the same. He would be kind. With Cynthia he'd been…He didn't know. He didn't want to.

He was not a fighter.

Lucius Malfoy – yes, that must have been during his psychological phase, which had come right before his psychopathical phase, the last one to date – Lucius Malfoy had once said that Snape didn't like war because it had been the cause of his parents' struggles and unhappiness.

But Snape thought he didn't care about that. He just didn't like the mess and the strong feelings it brought to surface.

When he came back towards the tree, his wet hair dropping icy water in his eyes, his choice was made.

« Let's get it, » he said, and the Dark Lord licked his teeth.

**A/N** _Thank you everyone for your reactions after chapter 10, I know it was tough. And, again, yes, it was the worst you'll find in my story. I thought it was useful to show the complexity of Snape's personality as I conceive it, and apparently so did you. Thank you again._

_Ok, so Snape was about 21 when Cynthia died. Lucius Malfoy was 27, and the Aurors could not find any further evidence linking him to Voldemort. His father's gold helped, of course, but for the last time: rumors about corruption became wilder and wilder, Malfoy sr had to go abroad and Dumbledore was chosen as Chief Warlock at his place. This is partly why Lucius hates him so. The dangerous hybrid creature was, of course, dear Nagini – I cannot believe that she's a normal snake, can you? And I trust Voldie to come up with something like this…What else? Oh yes, the mystery of the title is finally solved…oh, I love Wilde so much…what a wondeful blogger he would have made, LOL… _

**_Circe la Fay_**_, hurray indeed...and I don't like fluffy Snape...really isn't like him..._

**_June_**_, bet Dumbledore would love to, LOL_

**_Drusilla3_**_, that's probably why Snape is so sour about everything...his life is so filled with things he just has to do...oh, and Lupin..._

**_rainbow fuzzlez_**_, you're not nosy, I'm always happy to talk about myself (isn't everyone?), lol! And that's what's funny about being Swiss, nobody know what the hell you do speak! This country is such a mess...My first language is Italian, but as I study in the French part, I'm practically bilingual. That, apparently, explain the very strange accent I have in English. Well, « horrible » describes it better..._

**_Natsuory_**_, thank you! Here it is, soon enough?_

**_duj_**_, I know, I know...but please don't call me that, it makes me feel like the One Ring if you do, and I hate that thing... shudders . Anyway, JKR is way nastier than I am – Harry hearing his parents die for him, and at 13? Who tried to sold them as children books, again?_

**_Nore_**_, ma langue maternelle est l'italien, et c'est vrai que je n'ai choisi anglais qu'à l'uni. J'avais beaucoup voyagé avant, alors je savais dire « Where is the airport, please? » et ce genre de choses, mais c'est vrai que ça a été un saut à couper le souffle de se jeter sur Shelley sans être passée par la case I am, you are. J'ai du écrire pour l'uni, j'imagine que ça aide. Et lire des masses aussi, ça aide plus. Enfin, faut se lancer. Et le latin et le grec...ooh, simplement magnifiques, bien que j'ai le sentiment que plus je les étudie, moins je les comprends. J'imagine que ça fasse du sens..._

**_heather_**_, of course, you're right. I see it partly as an exercice in style, Romans always had this inferiority complex towards Greeks (and right they were), and the poem is a translation in the sense that it follows an identical path, the same metaphors in the same order, and all that. But of course the context is so different, and Catullus has a talent of his own...poor Catullus, it must have been hard to write a love poem for a woman like Lesbia...sigh..._

**_Satia Entreri_**_, thank you for wanting more after chapter 10. I won't show more horrible things, but I think Snape is really like this...he's always so mean with everybody...and, he didn't enjoy it sooo much, after all..._

**_Portia_**_, yours is possibly the sweetest thing anyone said about my writing, I'm so happy...I'm more or less confident about my skills in Italian, I've been doing it for some time now, but English...and at the same time it is a very strange language, deceptively simple and rich of tasteful possibilities...oh, love you!_

Next update: March 2th 


	12. A Secret Admirer

Part 12 – A SECRET ADMIRER 

_and nothing but human lips become!_

Severus Snape kept his promises.

Both of them.

For ten solid days, during the horrible period preceding the Christmas holidays, he posted Voldemort the latest news of the Order – and, true to his word to Dumbledore, he didn't lay a finger on Hermione.

He would have liked to start his seducing plans, but was unsure about what to do. He couldn't start to send her flowers, after all. He decided to ignore her, postponing any projects till she was his.

And she would be his. Sometimes he wondered what he should do with her once the spell was broken. Would it be safe to send her back to Hogwarts? Would she want to? Snape really hoped that she wasn't one of those silly girls mixing up sex with love – the last thing he needed was to be loved by her.

The last he deserved too, probably.

_One step at a time_, he thought, breathing hard, whenever this confusing feeling occurred.

On her part, Hermione, after five years of denial, had come to Ron's conclusion: Snape was a very sick man. He was aroused by sixteen-year old students, but he refused to be kind to them; he refused to look at them; he still fucking refused to say a single word about a counter-spell against the blondying charm. Not that she'd asked, of course.

She was too scared to – she'd finally surrendered. She'd started to stay away from Malfoy and to quietly hate Snape, in a fierce Weasley sort of way.

But there were times when cold logic was stronger, and Hermione stole glances of him pacing swiftly in his classroom, and she wondered what he knew, and why he wouldn't tell her. Why he wouldn't look at her.

What Hermione couldn't understand, was that Snape couldn't bear to have his eyes on her; every single time, he saw her body naked under his, and he heard Cynthia's voice shift from amusement to terror.

_Where are you going down there?_

_Oh, Sevvy...I don't think I'm ready..._

_I really don't think I'm ready..._

_Sevvy, please stop._

_Stop. Please._

_Please._

_No._

_Noo._

_Noooooo!_

At that point, he pinched his flesh through his robes and forced himself to glare at Neville.

But some minutes later, the memory started to play again in front of his eyes.

And he was supposed to teach at the same time. Hopefully not for long. Only five more days till Christmas, and if all went well he was not coming back for the summer term.

The game was played.

The last day of term finally dawned on them, snowy and stormy.

Hermione went down to breakfast with Harry and Ron, lecturing them about how they should schedule their homework during the Christmas holidays. As they reached the Great Hall they were greeted by four gigantic posters, one over each table, decorated in lurid Christmas colours.

« Oooh! » squealed Lavender on their right, « A last-minute Christmas Party! »

Harry and Ron groaned, and Hermione, out of instinct, glanced up to the High Table. Dumbledore had a mistletoe branch tied around his hat, and Snape looked surlier than ever.

This made her smile.

« What are you smiling about? » asked Ron grumpily from her right side.

Blushing, Hermione looked around wildly for something to say. Somehow she didn't think that _Professor Snaoe is too cute when he's angry_ was something she was allowed to say. To Ron Weasley, of all people.

As her eyes checked quickly the staff table, she beamed in relief.

« Professor Lupin is back, » she said, truly happy.

« What ? » said Harry, knocking over his pumpkin juice to look up at him.

Lupin waved at him, smiling at the mess slowly creating on the Gryffindor table: the juice had spread on the bread, which had been pushed away hastily by Parvati, whose movement had unsettled Dean, who'd been loading scrambled eggs on his plate – Harry interrupted his wave and rose to his feet with a start as a substance no longer recognizable as food started to drop on his robes.

« What is he doing here? » he asked, trying to clean himself.

Hermione looked around herself warily.

« Order's business, » she whispered.

Ron nodded.

« What else? »

After breakfast the three of them went to meet Lupin, who was heading for the Entrance Hall. Before they could reach him, they found themselves in Snape's way, and he stopped to look down contemptuously at them.

Lupin stopped too, and stood there, transfixed – Harry was so like James, now, he would possibly outgrow Snape and himself in a year or two. And the way the two of them glared at each other...Lupin shuddered of fear and, to his disgust, anticipation.

Then Snape shifted his glare from Harry to Hermione, and bored his dark eyes in hers during a very long minute – a too long minute. Lupin saw Hermione look back at him, her chin set, a slight blush on her cheeks, but it was Harry's face which decided him to move.

_Hermione can take care of herself_, he said firmly to himself, _But Harryand Snape...that's a catastrophe waiting to happen._

Only a moment later, he was closing his hand on Harry's shoulder, but Snape was already gone.

« What – oh, hi, Professor Lupin! » said Harry, turning round.

« Harry, » said Lupin, shaking his hand, « Ron – Hermione. »

He nodded at them, then bent slightly forward.

« I need a word with you, Harry. Say, tonight afetr dinner? »

« Of course, » was the bemused answer. « Where- »

« You'll find me in the Entrance Hall. People will probably rush to and fro, making ready for the ball, nobody will notice – you don't need to go back to your dormitory and change, do you? » asked Lupin, teasingly, and Harry made a brave effort to smile and shook his head.

The morning was quiet; Professor Binns reminded them of the Christmas homework as the girls chatted about the party and the boys gazed vaguely into space. Hermione looked around scornfully and wrote in a careful, round writing, _How many rooms the castle has? Check the British Library_ on her parchment.

_It will be difficult to convince Molly Weasley_, she tought, looking through Professor Binns at the blackboard.

They were staying at Grimmauld Palace for Christmas – the whole Weasley family was living there, as it was way safer than the Burrow, and Hermione had the impression that they would be compelled to stay inside the house for the whole time. There was good reason for that, of course – Lucius Malfoy, for one, was constantly in London – Hermione was almost sure that it was he who was behind Draco's attack on her. Worse: a bored survey of the landscape from the library window had established that she'd been well outside the grounds when Draco had stunned her –a Death-Eater could have Apparated and Disapparated with her in no more than five seconds.

_If Snape hadn't been there..._

The bell rang, and she, Harry and Ron headed back to the Great Hall to lunch, only to discover that Professor Flitwick and a very angry-looking Filch had spent the morning to put on Christmas decoration for the Party.

« Well, at least we don't have to invite some girl, » Harry mumbled, sitting down.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

« Just because you dont _have_ to, doesn't mean you _can't_. Girls like that. »

« Yeah? And whom am I supposed to invite? Cho? » he replied angrily.

« Why not Ginny? » she whispered, looking at him. « She isn't going out with anyone at he moment, you know. »

Harry looked down the table at Ginny and blushed, while Ron started to smile.

« Next-of-kin, pass the bread! » he said, and Harry scowled at him.

At that moment, Neville got to his feet and stopped by them, looking nervous.

« I'll be waiting for you in the Common Room, then, » he said to Hermione, and, without waiting for her answer, he ran off.

Ron stared at her, and Hermione had the grace to blush.

« Well, he asked me first, didn't he? And I couldn't go with him two years ago, after all. »

She quickly finished her pumpkin juice and went off to Arithmancy.

Snape watched her go, curling his lips.

_Maybe tonight..._

Lupin had spent the afternoon pouring over some old parchements, trying to translate them in a language which wouldn't resemble Troll, but his efforts were vain – mainly because he was thinking about Harry, and what he should tell him.

When a knock broke the silence of the staff room, Lupin jumped slightly.

« It's open, » he said, and was surprised to see Harry stepping awkwardly inside.

He checked his watch – he hadn't realised that it was so late already. All of a sudden, he didn't want to have this conversation at all.

« Good evening, Professor Lupin, » said Harry, taking a seat.

Lupin smiled at him.

« Good evening, » he answered. « I'm sorry to distract you from the feast. »

« No problem, » said Harry, and waited for him to start.

Lupin took a deep breath.

« I just wanted to tell you – I happened to witness your er… meeting with Snape today, at lunch, and I wanted to say that – that probably you didn't behave very well. He's your teacher, after all. »

Harry felt his mouth open. Lupin – Lupin telling him –

« I know you don't like him, Harry. But he's on our side. And he values respect more than anything else – probably because he got so little of it in the past. »

« Yeah, well, as I can imagine the difficult life he led as a Death Eater! » cried Harry disgusted, raising to his feet. « Not a friendly place, Voldemort's circle, is it? »

« Harry – please. »

Harry sat down again, breathing hard. Lupin looked right in his eyes.

« We're at war, Harry. It's a good time as any to grow up. I don't care if he's done mistakes, I don't care if he's nasty – you're better than he is, you can be respectful to him and trust him. »

Harry blushed slightly but made a soft, disbelieving noise.

« There are so few of us. Unless we trust each other, we're never going to win. »

Harry waited for something else, but nothing come. Unwilling to answer, he mumbled a farewell and went back to the Great Hall, feeling contrasting emotions about te short interview.

Was Lupin right ? Was he, Harry, putting himself and others in innecessry danger by refusing to trust Snape, simply because he was a greasy git?

He was so deep in thought, he nearly bumped into Ron, who turned as to say hello.

« Does she fancy him? » he said instead, his eyes glued to Hermione and Neville as they tried to dance on a rapid, violent music.

_Neville? Don't be stupid. You should have asked her, you know. You're getting ridiculous_, thought Harry. Instead, he said,

« Dunno. I don't think so. »

He hadn't invited Ginny, but he was determined to wait for a slower music and ask her to dance with him. She was not bad-looking...and she was almost as normal as Hermione was, he had never seen her worried about clothes or stuff...

After his fourth Butterbeer, the Stinking Skeletons started to play a slow tune with sickening sweet words. As he was getting to his feet, a movement towards the High Table made him stop.

Dumbledore had invited Professor McGonagall, and the two of them were stepping into the crowd. Lupin, who'd probably taken some secret entrance, was gallantly bowing to a seventh-year girl Harry didn't know. And Snape...Snape had stopped in front of Hermione and was quietly speaking to her.

A strangled gasp behind him told that Ron had seen them too. Placing a hand on Ron's arm, he gritted his teeth as Snape placed his own hand on Hermione's waist.

« What the _hell_ does he think he's doing? » spat Ron, looking at them.

« Cute, isn't it? » said a dreamy voice on his left.

Harry and Ron turned around, and saw Luna Lovegood gazing through the crowd. She was wearing a robe which seemed to be made of Niffler's furs badly sewed togheter.

« I mean, he and Lupin are the only young teachers, aren't they? You can't expect them to spend all evening with old Professor Vector, now, can you? »

When the boys didn't reply, she took firmly Ron's hand and started to pull.

« Let's dance, Ronald, » Harry heard her say, as Ron followed her hopelessly.

Hermione felt very uneasy.

Snape was a good dancer; he was gently stirring her to and fro, and his hands had the right pressure on her back. Nonetheless, something didn't sound right.

He didn't say a word to her during the whole song, apparently happy to hold her and glare into the distance.

She quickly released him when the song ended; he looked briefly down at her, then went back to the High Table. Hermione saw Professor McGonagall moving towards him, looking furious – and a matching look was on Harry's and Ron's faces as they came towards her.

Feeling too shaky to survive an argument with them, she fled the Great Hall, and ran all the way to the Gryffindor Tower.

She stopped only after arriving in her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

She kneeled down to pat Crookshanks, who was unwisely sitting too close to the rug, and took her wand out to light a fire.

Crookshanks stood up and went to pace closer to the ashes, sniffing them and then looking up at her expectantly.

« What is it, Crooky? Have you been cold? » she said, absent-mindedly. « Come on now, step away. »

When the cat refused to move, she looked more closely at the rug. And she frowned. Over the ashes and the half-burned wood of the previous night there was a faint green powder.

_Floo powder_, she thought.

« Is this it, Crookshanks? Someone was here? »

The cat purred, and Hermione got to her feet and started to look around the room. She was expecting one of Malfoy's lousy jokes, even though she knew that Prefects weren't allowed to use the Floo network. She was ready to comb the whole room looking for hints, but she hadn't to look long.

Right on her pillow lied a folded piece of parchement.

As she was moving towards it, Parvati and Lavender came in.

« Ooh, what is it, Hermione? » squealed Lavender. « A secret admirer? »

The girls stared hungrily as she unfolded the paper with trembling hands.

It wasn't signed, but the black, spidery writing was unmistakeable.

According to Headmaster Godefroy of Wales, Hogwarts castle has 984 rooms. However, an accurate study should include the new ones resulting from the restaurations of 1812 (I believe Tutt's article will be useful on this) and, of course, the Chamber of Secrets.

Parvati moved forwards, but Hermione took a step back.

« It's from Professor McGonagall. Prefect's duties. »

As Lavender was looking unconvinced, she added impatiently, « Come on, you know boys are not allowed in our dormitory. What were you expecting? »

« Maybe something from Snape, » said Lavender.

« You two were so sweet, » added Parvati, amused.

« Oh, shut up. »

Hermione took her pyjamas from under the pillow, and she heard Parvati and Lavender follow her example as they chatted about Seamus' new haircut.

But when the room went dark, Hermione couldn't sleep. She kept seeing Professor Snape moving in the shadows, coming out from the green flames, approaching her bed, placing his hand on her pillow...

_He surely gave it to an House Elf_, said a reasonable voice in her head.

She squashed it.

She was sure he had been there, and she could actually smell his exotic scent on her pillow – a mixture of fires and musk.

_House-elves don't use the Floo network_, said her logical part.

Apparently, her whole brain was conspiring against her.

She still felt his hands on her waist, and she thought again about him laying on the top of her in the snow – and all of a sudden she was wondering what he would have done if she had been in her room when he had brought the note.

Girlish thoughts, romantic sceneries and saucy images went to and fro in Hermione's mind as she drifted into oblivion.

**A/N**_ Hi everyone, sorry, I was in the train again…busy period, but won't last! Thank you to Natsuory, rainbow fuzzlez and Nore._

**_Portia_**_ – wow, have I found a Wilde fan? Ca we exchange his signed photos and underwear, lol? Thank you again, hope you still enjoy…_

**_Aries1_**_, looks bad from where I'm standing…but let's hope…_

**_duj_**_, thank you! Gollum? Gollum! After reflexion, I did prefer the One Ring…_

**_deather_**_, that's an interesting theory for canon Snape…from an abusive father to a fake abusive father, I'd say…yes, nothing goes right for him…sobs…_

_Next update, March 5th_


	13. De Tes Reves A Mes Reves

_Part 13 – DE TES REVES A MES REVES _

_Out of chintz-covered drawing-rooms, _

Hermione squeezed her eyes to get a first glimpse of the Hogwarts Express, shining under a radiant winter sun. Dumbledore had decided that she, Harry, Ron and Ginny should have a carriage for themselves, protected and Unplottable.

She knew that Snape had volunteered to guard them; she didn't know that he'd given Lucius Malfoy the instructions to get past the wards.

Snape was already aboard; as he saw the four of them arrive to the station, racing to keep up with Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, his eyes lingered on Hermione's figure. Had she found his note? Had she known it was his? Unwillingly, he admitted that both answers would be yes; and he didn't like that yes, it brought to surface the idea of keeping quiet, a feeling that his move had already been made, and now he could only wait for her to move towards him in some way.

The thought of her moving anywhere closer to him was alarming. She had to be consentant, but he still needed to be the one in control.

At one point, Hermione managed to arrive at Hagrid's side, and her eyes grew wider in shock.

« ...Albus was forced to admit the presence of a spy. And the informations come from the very inside of the Order, » was saying the Transfiguration Professor.

Snape stopped to read her lips and groaned. Stupid Good Side! How thick could they be? Here they were, talking about the Order where every nasty piece of scum on earth (himself, for one) could easily overhear them!

He closed his eyes and tapped his fingers on his leg, waiting.

Meanwhile, Hagrid hadn't said anything, and both of them had noticed Hermione's presence.

Minerva McGonagall gave her a warning look, as they slowed their pace to wait for the others.

« Very well, » said Professor McGonagall nervously when the six of them stepped into the station. « Very well. Don't panic, now. »

She grabbed Harry's shoulder and squeezed him tight.

« Professor Snape is going to be with you. And you'll have your Portkey, » she added, in a whisper, passing a gold chain around Harry's neck. « Remember that it is connected to the four of you. »

Harry looked at the pendant, then hid it under his robes.

Nobody knew about that, not even Professor Snape.

Hermione smiled nervously.

« We're going to be fine. »

« Yes. Yes, of course, » said Professor McGonagall distractedly. « Go on now, or you'll be late. »

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny walked slowly to the train, and went in. As their carraige was Unplottable, they neither saw nor heard the others Hogwarts students, though they had to be there somewhere. The rest of the school had boarded the train some thirty minutes earlier. It was very eerie to step into a seemingly empty Hogwarts Express patiently waiting for them.

They passed Snape, who was sitting in the first compartment, looking as though he would have preferred to be anywhere but there, and they went to sit in the second one.

The train started to move.

Glaring at the harsh landscape out of the train window, Snape really thought that everything was finishing. He was expecting Malfoy any minute now. He would take Hermione and the long-nosed blondie asshole could do whatever he wanted to with Potter and the Weasleys.

And then he would have had a very long time to seduce Hermione – ten years of faking to be someone else were bound to be useful to build an healthy one night stand with a woman.

But then, something went wrong.

« What do you think about it? » said Ron, taking a seat by the window.

« Professor McGonagall seemed so scared, » Hermione whispered.

« Still, I don't see what could go wrong, » said Harry. « I mean, even without the git's protection, we have the Portkey and some very powerful wards. »

Hermione nodded absent-mindedly…_someone was passing informations to the Death Eaters. But what had Dumbledore said? Only himself and Snape knew the codes to the train…they were safe…unless _Snape_ was the one…_

« Hermione? _Hermione_? »

« Sorry, were you saying something? »

« What were you thinking at? Want a game of Exploding Snaps? »

« Of course. »

« Of course, » said Lestrange, licking his lips. « We'll wait for the tunnel, if you're sure that the spot is unprotected. »

« The wards are already off, but I made that tunnel Unplottable, » explained Snape, annoyed.

« Remember not to harm Potter, Rodolphus, » said Lucius Malfoy, idly caressing the tip of his silver staff.

« Trust me. »

Snape looked out of the window, frowning. Trust Lestrange. As if. Malfoy, though, seemed satisfied. When the train slowed down, and the lights went on, he pulled on the emergency brake.

The train stopped.

« What's going on? » said Hermione nervously, raising her eyes from the game. « We can't be there yet. »

As Ron got to his feet, the lights went out. Harry swore and took his wand out of his belt, hearing Ginny do the same on his right.

But before he could utter the lightning spell, he heard the door open, and saw Lucius Malfoy's pale hair glitter in the dark.

« _Stupefy_, » he said quietly, keeping his wand in front of him.

Ron, who was the closest, was hit and fell down, unconscious.

Harry raised his own wand, but another voice said, in a sharp whisper,

« _Expelliarmus!_ » and he and Ginny felt their wands slid through their fingers and fell to the floor.

« _Lumos_ »

Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic features appeared in the dim light.

« Well, well, » he said. « Potter. It took some time to hunt you down, but I really think it was worth it. »

Harry didn't answer and tried to pull Hermione towards him, but the man in the shadow was quicker. Rodolphus Lestrange's hand closed on Hermione's wrist, and she gasped.

Ginny reached out to put Lestranges' hand away from Hermione, but Malfoy shook his head.

« _Impedimenta!_ » he said, almost bored.

Ginny fell down, and Harry, who was right behind her, fell back against the wall. He gritted his teeth when he saw Lestrange's expression, and he blinked furiously. Where the hell was Snape?

« Severus, don't you want to take your prize? » drawled Malfoy's voice.

Severus Snape appeared in the door-frame, his own wand alight.

« What are you talking about, Lucius? » he whispered, so quietly that Harry could barely hear him.

« Take the girl, Severus. She's yours. »

Hermione raised her eyes to seek Snape's, but couldn't meet them.

« I don't want to talk about this now. »

« I didn't say anything about 'talking'. »

« You surely aren't suggesting- »

« If you're not taking her, I am, » said Lestrange, pulling Hermione closer.

She tried to break free, but he was a lot stronger than she was. Again, she tried to meet Snape's eyes, and again he avoided her look and stared at Lestranges instead.

« You will not do any such thing, » said Snape dangerously. « She's still a student of mine. »

His eyes passed from Lestrange aroused look to Hermione's scared one. If only he could take her there, and put an end to everything…but she had to give herself to him, otherwise it was never going to work…

« Come on! Why you always have to be so boring? » said Lestrange, stepping closer to Hermione. All of a sudden, he cupped her left breast with his free hand, and she squealed.

« Release her, » Snape said, pointing his wand right at him.

Lestrange met his eyes, and didn't move. With a quick movement, Snape was in front of him and had forced his hand out of the way. He took Hermione by the waist.

« _Stupefy_, » he said quietly, hoping against hope that she hadn't understood what was going on.

Hermione collapsed in his arms, and he laid her down in a free seat.

« End of part one, » said Malfoy. « Let us check what part two is. »

He and Lestrange went out of the compartment, leaving Harry and Snape alone.

Harry was still breathing hard. He didn't dare to move. Snape's wand was pointing straight at him.

« Have a seat, Harry, » Snape said, and Harry's heart gave a jolt. When had Snape _ever_ called him by his first name ?

Snape observed the boy carefully. His betrayal meant Harry Potter's death, that was for sure. And all of a sudden, Snape felt sorry for the boy. He had tried to pay James Potter back and had failed.

_Well, everything has a price_, he thought idly.

« Why don't you ask it? » he said finally, looking at Harry sharply.

Harry gaped for a moment, then closed his mouth.

« Whose side are you on? » he said, dropping in a free seat.

His conversation with Lupin seemed unreal; and he would have liked to see Lupin's face in that moment, three of them Stunned and Harry himself wandless, facing a Snape who talked about Hermione as though he'd just bought her.

« I thought you would have guessed by now. »

« Are you trying to save us or to get us killed? » Harry insisted.

Snape glared at him.

« I knew Lucius Malfoy long before you were born, Harry. »

« But you knew Dumbledore longer than that, didn't you? »

« No, I did not. »

Harry looked at him. He had the feeling that Snape was talking about his years as a Death Eater – but what did that mean? Was the last sentence still a metaphore, or simply the truth? Was Snape saying that he had come across Dumbledore too late to be rescued from the Dark in which he lived?

Because Snape had surely lived in the Dark, long and deep; but then again, Professor Lupin _was_ the Dark, and he was a good man.

« You saved Hermione, » insisted Harry in a low voice. « What will happen to her now ? »

« I will take care of her. »

Harry joined his hands on his knees. There was something very strange about Snape, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

« What about me and Ron and Ginny? »

« You know what _your_ fate is. Are you ready to meet it? »

« No, » said Harry, truthfully. « I don't know what you're planning, but if Voldemort faces me now, he'll kill me. »

Snape looked at him curiously. Had he just heard self-inflated Potter admit his weakness?

« Well, you'd better be ready, » he said eventually.

« And Ron and Ginny? »

Snape kept his silence, and Harry read the answer in his eyes. If Harry was caught, the game was over. He thought about the Portkey, but he wanted to understand what was going on before he used it.

« Hermione…why is she the important one? » asked Harry sharply, and Snape paled.

« What makes you think that? »

« You seem interested in her. »

Snape looked towards the sleeping form at Harry's side, and Harry saw in his eyes the same calculating glare he'd had when he was dancing with her the night before.

« What did they want to do to her? » he insisted.

« Does the word 'rape' mean anything to you? »

Harry gritted his teeth.

« And what do _you_ want with her? »

« I want her safety. »

Harry could accept that, but there was still something Snape was not telling him.

And then, Malfoy reappeared in the door-frame.

« The Dark Lord doesn't want any problem, Severus. He said it's better if you kill the Potter boy now. »

Snape turned to look at Malfoy in disbelief.

« These are orders, Severus. »

Snape had turned towards his victim again – _so what_, he thought, taking out his wand.

But when his eyes fell on Harry Potter's face, he saw James Potter. And for the first time ever, James was not looking at him in hate or despise or badly hidden fear.

The boy's lips timidly curved up in a smile. He _trusted_ him.

And Snape, his chest aching, acted with deliberate slowness. The beginning of the killing curse had barely touched his own lips when Potter jumped forward and broke his wand in two.

And Dumbledore must have given them an hidden Portkey, because all of them suddenly vanished.

Left alone and wandless, Snape saw in a moment that Lord Voldemort was going to see his slowness as a betrayal – and in truth it was.

So he activated his own security Portkey, without looking at Malfoy.

The flat he arrived to was charmed to appear as a normal Muggle flat. As most of the time there was romantic music and a soft laughter coming from it, the neighbours assumed it was occupied by a female student of some kind.

Nobody would have believed the flat was the security hide place of a wizard and Dumbledore would have been happy to know that.

The music was on when he arrived, and he didn't know how to turn it off, nor did he care about it. His brain noticed that the song was in French, and little more.

_…de la guerre à la trêve-_

He moved restlessly from one room to the following, not even scowling at the girly decoration surrounding him.

He had done it.

_…combien de fois mon amour, _

_combien d'aller-retour entre la haine et l'amour-_

He had betrayed Voldemort. For the second time. More, he had betrayed himself. He had abandoned the quest that had been haunting him since his youth.

_…combien de grands voyages pour autant de naufrages-_

He would never been able to read the book. He would age and die before the Granger girl had children. He would not have another possibility.

And of course, she would never accept him.

_…j'ai plus rien à blesser qui soit vierge de coups-_

Above all, she wouldn't if she knew that his only reasons to crave for her was an old volume of Dark spells.

Because of course he didn't love her, and he wasn't going to lie to her. Time of lies was over.

_…je t'ai regardé partir en mourant tout bas-_

Snape crossed his arms on his chest and looked out of the window.

_…les étoiles que j'avais dans le regard-_

The Muggle world outside it went on peacefully, completely indifferent to him.

_…sont venues s'échouer comme des étoiles de mer_

_sur l'estran désert-_

Snape contracted his fingers. It couldn't be over. He had done the most terrible things, he had gone well past any possibility of redemption, even in his own eyes, and all he was going to be left with was this? A burning sense of failure?

_…puis j'ai crié attend-moi j'arrive_

_et si c'est pas une vie de te suivre, ce sera ce que ce sera-_

He opened the window. He was going to end it. He couldn't bear to stand there and lose the last tatter of him he had still some respect for.

_…c'était pluvieux, a deux nuages d'un orage_

_à faire taire les oiseaux-_

He leaned against the windowsill, gulping in the cold winter air. He couldn't bear it.

All of a sudden, he realised that he didn't sense the wards anymore. And that someone was standing behind him.

_…juste à côté de moi, ce parfum agréable-_

« You may turn, » drawled a familiar voice, so very like his own. The teacher marks the pupil, after all. « Very, very slowly. »

He turned.

_…et l'orage éclata en même temps que le morceau de chair qui me servait de cœur-_

Lucius Malfoy was there, his wand pointing directly at his heart. He seemed very unreal, clothed in fully wizard robes in the middle of the blatantly Muggle flat.

« Do it, » Snape said quietly.

His calm and defeated voice unsettled Malfoy, but he was too well trained to show it or to weaken the grip on his wand.

_…si t'es là pour me voir je te signale qu'il n'y a plus rien à voir du tout-_

« That would be a pleasure, » said the blond wizard, baring his teeth. « But unfortunately, it won't be _my_ pleasure. »

Snape looked at him without answering.

_…je pourrais pas, car tu vois, _

_il y a un vœu que j'ai fait là-bas-_

« How pathetic are you, Severus? A first betrayal is brave, » he stated, licking his lips. « A second one is foolish. »

_…t'es déjà trop vieux aujourd'hui _

_pour réparer l'erreur la pire de ta vie _

_qui celle d'être parti d'ici-_

« The third one is fatal. »

Snape didn't lower his eyes and didn't blink as a flash of red exploded from Malfoy's wand.

**A/N** _Hi everyone and SORRY SORRY SORRY. My Internet connection didn't work these last days, I really tried to post something, anything... _

**_But, I have good news. As Hermione is fifteen, after all, and my story finishes within the school year, you can imagine that the two of them are not going to marry. But as so many of you apparently think they should, I've decided to add another chapter, which will describe the Leaving Feast. And there could happen something interesting, why not..._**

**_So this last chapter is up to you. Tell me what you want as the story progress – should Snape make a proposal, should they have sex, should she make the first move, should they decide to be friends, should he strangle Ron for kissing Hermione... Please tell me, and I will write it your way! Drop me lines, dresses, anything. I'll try to combine it all in something coherent._**

****

_Deadline: the posting of chapter 19._

_(If you want your ideas to be a surprise for the others, you can always drop me a line at my private e-mail, heosvirgilio.it)_

_The song is Lynda Lemay's _De tes rêves à mes rêves_, I actually did a horrible and goofy English translation of the lines quoted, hoping this will add something to the chapter._

_…de la guerre à la trêve-_

(from war to truce)

_…combien de fois mon amour, _

_combien d'aller-retour entre la haine et l'amour-_

(how many times my love, how many journeys from hate to love and back again)

_…combien de grands voyages pour autant de naufrages-_

(how many long journey, and every time the ship has sunk)

_…j'ai plus rien à blesser qui soit vierge de coups-_

(there's nothing in me left to be wounded, nothing which has never been wounded before)

_…je t'ai regardé partir en mourant tout bas-_

(I've looked at you going away, and I've felt myself silently dying)

_…les étoiles que j'avais dans le regard-_

(the stars that were in my eyes)

_…sont venues s'échouer comme des étoiles de mer_

_sur l'estran désert-_

(have come to die like a starfish on the deserted shore)

_…puis j'ai crié attend-moi j'arrive_

_et si c'est pas une vie de te suivre, ce sera ce que ce sera-_

(then I've shouted, Wait for me, I'm coming, even if I won't have a real life with you, I don't care)

_…c'était pluvieux, a deux nuages d'un orage_

_à faire taire les oiseaux-_

(it was rainy, a storm was coming, birds were silent)

_…juste à côté de moi, ce parfum agréable-_

(just besides me, this pleasant smell)

_…et l'orage éclata en même temps que le morceau de chair qui me servait de cœur-_

(and the storm broke the moment what was left of my heart exploded)

_…si t'es là pour me voir je te signale qu'il n'y a plus rien à voir du tout-_

(if you're here to see me you should know that there's nothing left to see)

_…je pourrais pas, car tu vois, _

_il y a un vœu que j'ai fait là-bas-_

(I couldn't, because, you see, there a vow binding me far from here)

_…t'es déjà trop vieux aujourd'hui _

_pour réparer l'erreur la pire de ta vie _

_qui celle d'être parti d'ici-_

(you're already too old today to fix the worst mistake of your life, and this mistake was leaving from here)

Next update: March 12th


	14. Mrs Black's Laugh

**_Part 14 – MRS. BLACK'S LAUGH_**

****

****

_come and learn -_

When Snape woke up, he didn't open his eyes. He knew what was coming, and though he had prepared himself to face it – though he had actually wished it – he needed another minute to be ready.

But the Dark Lord wasn't there.

_If you thought it was going to be so quick, you're a fool_, said Malfoy's grey eyes as he bowed him into the torture chamber.

« He betrayed us. »

« WHAT? »

A horrible voice, a woman's, started to laugh shrilly.

« You asked, where is Severus Snape, and I said, he has betrayed us, » repeated Harry, forcing his voice to be calm.

« I don't believe it, » said Lupin, flatly. He didn't bother to Stun Madam Black's portrait, which was laughing louder than ever.

« Look, he lowered the wards for Malfoy! » said Ron, angrily. « He was there with him! He didn't fight him! »

The three of them had been relived by the pull of the Portkey, and Harry had quickly filled them in as they were waiting for someone to come.

« And Malfoy asked him to- to murder Harry. »

Lupin turned towards Hermione.

« Did he? And what did Severus do? » he asked her.

« He started to say the curse. But I was too quick for him and broke his wand. »

Lupin stormed towards the kitchen. He had to talk with Dumbledore that instant. Severus Snape, not quick enough for a teenage boy? He had done it deliberately, Lupin was sure of it. And now he was in the hands of the Death Eaters without his wand.

« What did he run for? »

« Lupin trusts him, » spat Harry. « He told me so last night. »

_And he isn't the only one_, thought Harry, almost ashamed of that single moment in which himself had believed Snape to be on their side.

« Well, Dumbledore trusts him, » pointed out Hermione, in a would-be-reasonable tone.

« Are you saying – are you trying to say – SHUT UP YOU! » Harry turned to face the portrait, but with no effect whatsoever.

Sirius' mother seemed utterly mad. She was beyond words. She tried to clam down, but she failed, tears streaming from her eyes as she continued to laugh shrilly.

« Hermione – are you – what are you saying? » Harry asked furiously.

« I know you don't like him, but maybe – »

Ron sighed with exasperation.

« What are you waiting for? » he said. « Do you want him to stand up during the Hallowe'en Feast, say, 'Goodbye everybody, I go to my true master', turn into a greasy bat and fly away? »

Ginny giggled, and Hermione stared at the others for a moment, then mumbled something of which only the word _useless_ could be overheard over the noise, and went up to her room.

Lupin came back into the Hall.

« _Stupefy_ » he shouted, aiming at the portrait. « We should have done something ages ago, » he added, and Harry didn't understand wheter he was talking about the house or about Snape.

He stood glaring at them, which was most unlike him, then beckoned Harry into the kitchen. Ron and Ginny were shooed away by Mrs Weasley, who went after them to be sure they couldn't overhear.

As he stepped into the room, Harry felt half-nervous and half-furious. They were behaving as he'd done something wrong – hadn't he just saved everybody's necks, again?

To his surprise, Professor McGonagall, and not the Headmaster, was waiting for him.

« We need to know the details, Harry, » she said abruptly. « Who was there? »

« Lucius Malfoy, » said Harry, breathing hard, as Lupin went to look into the fire. « One of the Lestrange brother – Bellatrix's husband. »

« If they were on the train, Severus must have given them the passwords, » said Lupin without turning.

« What did they do? » continued Professor McGonagall, ignoring him.

« Malfoy said something about me – I don't remember – then they invited Snape to – to 'claim his prize', or something like that. »

« His prize? » echoed Professor McGonagall, surprised.

« Hermione, » said quietly Lupin, speaking into the flames.

« How did you know? » asked Harry.

« What did he do? »

« He – he protected her from Lestrange. Then both of them went away. »

Professor McGonagall sighed.

« Albus thought he could resist... » she murmured.

« He didn't want the book for himself! » Lupin turned and stared at her. « You he didn't, » he added, in a gentler voice.

« Which book? » asked Harry, and as Lupin's mouth opened, Bill Weasley stepped out of the green flames.

« He's gone, » he said, panting. « The wards are broken. »

Lupin swore loudly, and Professor McGonagall went very pale.

Mrs Weasley stepped over the threshold.

« Come on, Harry, » she said kindly, « I've made you all some chocolate. »

Harry allowed himself to be pushed upstairs, and was completely uncapable to repeat to Ginny, Ron and Hermione what had been said down in the kitchen.

« Something about a book, about resisting to it, » he mumbled, and Ron took advantage of his silence to start insulting Snape.

Christmas made them forget the attack on the train, and as the days passed, Harry, Ron and Ginny found themselves spending very little time thinking about Snape. They would mention him occasionally, to wonder aloud where he could be.

But they were too delighted about Molly Weasley's wonderful cooking to bother seriously about it. After all, they were alive, and this was the one important thing.

Only Hermione was still thinking about Snape, trying to put everything togheter.

_He saved Harry from Quirrell..._

She felt his smell on her pillow...

_He showed his Mark to Fudge..._

She felt his hand on her waist...

_He went to look for us into the Forest..._

She felt his tall, muscular body over hers...

And where is he now ? 

On January the first, Harry went ahead with his guard, while Ron and Ginny followed with Tonks and Hermione with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

She never knew how they were taken. Suddenly, everything was black, and only a split moment later, she was vaguely aware of Shacklebolt supporting her weight, and then of the cold and the dark and the noise of a door closing behind them.

« Snape ! Thank Merlin, you're alive ! » she heard Shacklebolt say, as he walked away from her.

Hermione stood in the dark, breathing heavily. _Snape – here?_

« For the moment. And why do I have the pleasure of your company? »

Hermione jumped when she heard the familiar, drawling voice. Now it sounded as though her Potions Professor hadn't used it for a very long time, and was trying to imitate his former self.

« Snape – there is no time for this. They said they were coming for me, and you have to get the girl out of here. »

There was a short pause, and Hermione saw Snape's dark eyes looking towards her in the dim light.

« You're joking, » he said eventually.

« Snape – please. You know she doesn't deserve this. »

« Nobody deserves it except me, why don't you say it? »

Shacklebolt never had the time to answer.

A/N Sorry, my connection is lousy again – can't understand or view your reviews..sigh...see you next time, I hope!

_Next update: March 15th_


	15. The Seventh Ward

_Part 18 – THE SEVENTH WARD_

_If you wish, I shall rage on raw meat;_

« Sir ? », called Hermione tentatively.

He didn't answer.

« Sir ? What was he talking about ? », she said again, her voice a little louder.

She could barely see him in the dark. He wasn't moving, and his head was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed.

« I want to know what he was talking about. », she said eventually.

« Trust me, you don't. »

« If there's a way to get us out of here, you have to tell me. »

« There's not a way to get 'us' out of here. There may be one to get _you_ out of here. »

Hermione had goose-bumps at how his voice was hoarse. How he sounded old and weary. She remembered what McGonagall had said the week before – _he_ had been the spy, she was certain of it. Anger started to boil inside her.

« Whatever. »

Snape was still not looking at her.

« Tell me. », she said, walking towards him and stopping in front of him. He was sitting on the ground, his robes bloody, his arms bound to the wall over his head.

« How much do you know about Celtic magic ? » , he said eventually.

« Not much. Wandless magic, obviously. Based on primary powers. »

« And what about the Epona spell ? »

Hermione's mind rocked around – where had she heard that name before ?

« Epona », she tried, « a translocation spell ? »

« Little know-it-all. », he whispered in a strange voice.

« How does it work ? »

« It can't work for you now. »

« Shacklebolt said it could. »

« He was wrong. »

Hermione was now thouroughly annoyed by the quieteness of his voice. She kneeled beside him and took his chin in her hand, forcing his face upwards.

« You tell me about it _now_. Your greatest ambition is to be murdered by your friends, I don't care. But mine is to get out of here this instant. », she hissed.

« Fine. », he hissed back. « Fuck me. »

« WHAT ? », she yelled, jumping to her feet.

« You heard me. »

« Are you _insane_ ? Are you blackmailing me ? »

Hermione was so furious and shocked that she could barely speak.

« Are you taking advantage of me in this situation ? _Who the fuck are you ? _»

Snape glared at her.

« That's how the spell works, you brat. And I'm doing that as a special favour to you, as it won't help me the slightest. »

« You're lying. », she said flatly.

For the first time, he looked positively fuming.

« I'm still your teacher, girl. You want to show some respect for me. », he said in his croaky voice. « Celtic magic is complex and simple at the same time – this spell needs the magical powers of a man's seed to be activated. It allows his partner to be translocated to a chosen destination. »

Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

« I'm not doing that. », she said. « Not with you. »

« Fine. Have it your own way. I said it wasn't going to work in the first place. », he replied, looking unconcerned.

Hermione moved as far away from him as she could and sat down. The best part of her brain believed him, but she couldn't live with the idea of having – of having –

And anyway, this spell could only help one of them. She would feel guilty beyond bearable at the thought of leaving him there.

He had spied for the Dark Lord, she sensed it, but he had danced with her. He had been in her room.

She would die with him.

She would die like a hero. Like those war stories her granpa was always talking about. Head straight, wounds on the front.

Snape was observing her from the shadows. He knew the look on her face. He had seen too many people preparing themselves to death to misread it. He wondered vaguely if she would held on to the end. She was young, and that could prove either a help or a block. She surely wanted to discover what her life was going to be like, but on the other hand she still was stubborn enough to live up her principles.

Both of them suddenly looked up when the yelling started.

It was Shacklebolt's voice.

It seemed to last forever.

Sometimes, parts of words could be understood, but most of the time it was just empty, meaningless, animal pain.

Snape closed his ears to the sound and looked down at her again.

Hermione kept her head on her knees and her hands joined for the whole time.

In the end, when the Auror became too hoarse or too weak to yell again, she quietly started to sing to herself.

« Take me back to my boat on the river, I need to go down…and I won't cry out anymore… »

She had always loved that song.

« The river is wide… »

The river. The river Styx – the one you had to cross to go in the land of the Dead.

Would she be crossing it, in a few hours' time ? Wearing white, a coin in her hand to pay the fee to the ferryman?

She jumped to her feet.

No, she wouldn't.

In one moment, all her dreams about heroes had been reduced to what they truly were – a bunch of tombstones. And she had a life to live. She wanted it. She wanted it badly.

She walked towards Snape.

« Changed your mind, have you ? », he drawled. « Scared ? »

« No. », she lied defiantly. « Angry. »

That was the last answer he was expecting, though he didn't show it.

« I want make them pay. »

He stared at her without speaking. So the youth had played in her favour after all – that and a touch of pure Gryffindor essence. As long as it got her out of there.

Lowering her eyes, her movements quick and practical, she took her knickers off and she went to kneel beside him.

« I'm sorry I can't take you back. », she whispered, trembling slightly for being so close to him.

« Don't worry, Miss Granger. I fully deserve to be here. », he said, wondering why he was telling her this. But then, this would be his last opportunity to have a civilised conversation with a living person. What was the point of lying ?

« You don't think that. »

« I do. »

« Well, I most surely don't. »

She straddled him and looked expectantly into his eyes, blushing.

« What- I mean, how- Oh, you know. »

He stared at her in disbelief.

« Are you – are you a virgin ? »

She lowered her eyes, blushing crimson.

« Get down of there. The price cannot be so high. »

In his quest to the book, he had almost forgotten that she was fifteen. So young. And everything was so new, and scary.

« I don't care about the bloody price. Tell me what to do. », she hissed, trying to meet his eyes.

« Miss Granger, I was completely unaware of your unexperience. As it is, I would suggest an oral intercourse. »

It helped a lot that he was keeping his Potions Master voice to talk about that. It made everything so much easier.

« But you said-»

« My semen must be inside you, it doesn't matter where. », he pointed out. « And I trust you have enough imagination to work out what to do. »

Well, maybe not that lot easier. She blushed scarlet.

Without another word, she opened his trousers and looked at his member.

Snape looked away, seemingly bored.

Hermione hesitated one moment before taking it in her hand and squeeze her fingers on it. It immediately started to grow hard.

She got on her belly, trying to find a comfortable position, and when she raised her head she was eyes to eyes – well, eyes to something – with – with _it_.

« Miss Granger. », he whispered, closing his eyes. « Go deep and fast. Use your tongue. It won't last long this way. »

« Ok. Thank you. », she answered nervously.

She licked the tip tentatively and heard him taking in his breath. The taste was very strange – a mixture bewtween something familiar and an exotic, wild scent she didn't know could exist.

She licked it again, circling the gland, and he moaned.

Encouraged by his reaction, she tried to take the whole thing into her mouth, and nearly gagged. She caught her breath, and tried it again, going as far as she was comfortable with.

In the beginning, he found the situation strange indeed. Hermione Granger, top student, had eventually surrendered to him.

_If only Minerva knew_, he thought, and his lips twitched slighlty.

Of course, it was nothing like he had imagined it.

_The second is getting it_, he thought. _Indeed_.

And then everything became blurred, as he tried to increase the physical pleasure with mental recollections and dreams to make it shorter…shorter…

Hermione had the strangest feeling that it should have melted a bit after a while – like an ice cream. It definitely wasn't normal to lick and suck and lick at something without it changing the slightest.

_Well, it should in the end – if I'm doing it right_, she thought, and she chuckled, causing him to moan louder.

It wasn't such a bad feeling, she decided. Quite amusing. And the fact to see her scaring Potions Master completely in her power was exciting enough. If only there wasn't that thought at the back of her mind about getting caught and tortured if she wasn't fast enough, she could have enjoyed it.

And then, while her thoughts were wandering around, and she wasn't expecting it at all, he came. She felt a hot liquid in her throat and tried to swallow it, and she heard him cry out her name – and then –

« Hogwarts ! »

A/N Ok, sorry everyone again, here is the chapter and I really didn't have the time to correct the ponctuation and this kind of stuff. I'm sorry some of you can't follow anymore ; apparently others do, so I don't understand what's happening. But, really, I said some chapters ago that Hermione and co were stayin at Grimmauld Palace for Christmas, so last chapter was based there. And Snape has been captured and hold prisoner in some DE place, we don't know any of them, do we ?

_Anyway, connection is still crappy and I have a lot to do before Easter, so happy holidays everyone and see you again April 8th._


	16. Unexpected Legilimency Twice

**Part 19 – UNEXPECTED LEGILIMENCY. TWICE.**

_or, as the sky changes its hue,_

As Hermione choked and spat out some drops of Snape's seed, she felt herself revolving around the room. It made her think about a basin of water slowly emptying itself. She closed her eyes, and when it was over she saw she was in an unknown place.

Someone moaned behind her, and she jumped.

Snape was standing against the wall, nursing his wrists. He was very pale. When he saw her looking at him, he quickly readjusted his trousers and she blushed.

«What are you doing here?» she said, trying to hide her embarassment.

«Since we are back at Hogwarts, you should call me _sir_».

«I'm sorry, sir,» she stammered, «But you – you said the spell would work only for me.»

«Disappointed, aren't you?» he drawled, moving towards a cabinet.

«Of course not!» she said quickly. «It's just –»

«It seems to me that you are a very naughty girl, Miss Granger.»

He took out a jar and turned to look straight at her.

«If I am here, it is because you had already imagined to do exactly what you have just done.»

Hermione blushed scarlet. She had never thought that someone would find out about that. She remembered his note on her pillow, and what she had done that night...it seemed like years ago.

«Which is very flattering for me, but slightly sick on your part,» he continued, opening the jar.

Hermione felt indeed sick. She was feeling so horrible about everything. Shacklebolt was dead, or worse than that, and moments later she had smiled with her teacher's sex in her mouth. She still had the taste of his seed on her tongue, and she thought she would vomit.

And on top of it all, Snape now knew about her secret fantasies. She didn't dare to look at him, but she felt his eyes on her. And then she heard him gasp.

She raised her head, and saw her reflection in the window.

Her hair were chestnut again.

Snape put the jar on his desk with a sharp noise.

_Of course_, he thought, moving towards the rug.

«Professor Snape-»

«Not now, Miss Granger!» he barked, as he limped through the room.

One minute later he had disappeared in a bunch of green flames, and Hermione collapsed against the foot of the bed, closing her eyes.

_You are back to Hogwarts_, she said firmly to herself. _Everything else has no importance whatsoever. You are safe._

But her brain refused to be shushed, and one moment later, Hermione understood.

Sex with him had changed her back to normal. And sex must have had other consequences, if he had stormed out of the room in that way.

All of a sudden, she felt angry and used. He had known this from the beginning. Professor McGonagall as well, judging by the look on her face after her meeting with Dumbledore. She wondered if he hadn't danced with her at Christams just to annoy his law-abiding colleague.

_But wait a moment_. That meant-

_Oh god_. Everybody was going to know that she had had sex with him.

_Relax. Breathe_. It had been to save her skin, hadn't it? Nobody would have accused her to have sook out Snape for her personal entertainment.

_But he had been saved too. They will know that I had fantasies about that._

She had to get out of his rooms. She really wanted to take a shower and to wash her teeth.

She got up and went to the door, but it was closed. She tried the Floo network, but it wouldn't work. She stared at the green flames, angry tears coming down her cheeks. He had imprisoned her there – well, if he needed something else to humiliate her completely, that was it.

«Severus! What happened? Where is Hermione?»

«Never mind that now! Where is the book?»

Albus Dumbledore looked at Snape. His Potions Master was pale and bleeding, but he had a triumphant look on his face.

«Severus, where is Hermione?»

«_Give me the book!_»

The attack was quick and unexpected. Snape felt his mental barriers fall, and he gripped the desk in front of him, forcing the Headmaster out of his mind. By the time he suceeded, Dumbledore had found all the informations he was looking for.

«Very well,» said Dumbledore, surveying the panting man. «I have been checking on it, Severus. And I do believe that some of it will help us to defeat Voldemort.»

Snape blinked.

«I have called for a meeting of the Order at sunset, and I do have pressing matters to attend till that time. Would you be so kind as to accompany Miss Granger to the Hospital wing?»

Snape was still looking at him silently. The blood impregnating his black robes was dropping to the floor.

«Severus.»

«Yes, Headmaster.»

«I will give it back to you this evening. You know I need your help to decipher it,» added Dumbledore kindly.

Snape nodded and turned, limping back into the fire.

When he stepped out of the rug in his personal chambers, he found Hermione furiously staring at him.

«You knew!» she spat. «You knew all this time!»

«I knew what, Miss Granger?»

«The book! Me – blonde! And how- how to-»

Snape looked at her, trying to remember why he had become a teacher in the first place.

«Of course I knew,» he said slowly.

«Why didn't you _tell_ me?»

He walked towards her, a hand over his injured leg. When his face was at one inch from hers, he stopped. To her merit, she hadn't moved.

«I – won't – be – spoken – to – like – that,» he hissed.

Hermione lowered her eyes and took a step back.

«My apologies, sir. But I want to know-» she murmured, blushing.

«The Headmaster didn't think it suitable.»

Hermione glared at him.

«Although, if I had known that you would have enjoyed it as much as you did, I would have suggested it earlier, Headmaster or not,» he added venomously.

Hermione blushed angrily.

«Now go away. Hospital wing.»

«I-I tried to get out of here, but everything was blocked,» she explained, feeling completely humiliated.

«Security measures.»

Hermione looked at him. He was standing with his arms spread, his back to her, and a little dagger was flying around him, cutting his clothes off.

Transfixed, she stood there observing him. The muscles on his back were well-defined, and on his pale skin the wounds of a whip were clearly visible. There were other marks, too – burnings and blackish signs.

«Miss Granger,» he said, and she started, «may I ask what you are still doing here?»

«You're wounded.»

«Thank you for telling me. I hadn't noticed,» he said dryly.

He turned to face her, and she gasped. A deep wound ran across his chest, blood dropping slowly on his pants and to the floor.

All of a sudden, it was too much. The dungeons, Kingsley's torture, the sleepless night, what she had done to Snape, his body covered in blood...she started to cry.

«Miss Granger,» he said, but she turned away from him, covering her face with her hands.

«Act your age, please. What's your problem now?» he asked impatiently.

She pressed her hands on her eyes and she tried to restrain her tears.

«It's all so horrible. I feel so dirty. I didn't know it was going to feel like this, afterwards,» she mumbled, looking at the wall.

«Well, at least there _is_ something you don't know,» he said, as to himself, stopping the knife as it was starting enthusiastically to attack his trousers.

«This thing in my mouth is so awful. I feel horrible,» she whispered.

«Why should it be awful?» he asked, bewildered. «Human seed is used in the preparation of some very powerful potions.»

Hermione didn't speak, but her eyes, shining with tears, were so wide and sad that he felt her answer pouring into his mind.

For me it means only that you are done with me. That you can throw me out.

He continued to look at her, oblivious of the dagger in his hand, as more of her thoughts went out to him.

_You- You there, so peaceful and relieved – tending to your wounds, without a single care in the world. _

_I'm just – just useless and alone._

I'm a whore.

Snape felt the words leave his mouth but was barely aware of having spoken them.

«You're not. For a decent man, this is the moment he loves you most,» he said softly, and she blinked, startled.

**_A/N _**_In case there is someone out there not leading the dangerous life I lead ;), if you've managed to end up with large, open wounds or serious burning you cannot simply take off your clothes, since they stick to your skin and eventually take it off with them. That's why Snape is cutting through them. And, I just love to see him with silver daggers in his hands...sigh..._


	17. Cynthia's Smile

Part 17 – CYNTHIA'S SMILE 

_if you wish, I shall grow irreproachably tender:_

« But – »

« Look, » he said, impatiently.

He closed the distance between them and kissed her deeply. She tasted of sperm and tears, like all the women he had kissed, and he groaned inwardly. He hated the taste of tears.

"See? » he said, breaking the kiss. « Nothing awful there. Nothing to be ashamed of. »

She was gaping at him as though he had grown an extra head, and he sighed.

« If you don't like the taste, it's just too bad. Have a Lemon Drop or something. »

As he turned and picked up the jar on his desk, she came back to her senses.

« Maybe I should go, » she said shakily.

« Maybe you should, » he said, opening the jar.

She moved towards the door, but she stopped with her hand on the door-knob.

« Do you want me to fetch Madam Pomfrey? » she asked timidly.

« No need. She's busy. »

« Oh. »

She looked at him while he started spreading some cream on his wounds.

« But- I mean, you will need some help with that, » she said, hating herself. Snape had been selfish, she told firmly to herself. No need to pity him.

But a small voice in the back of her head disagreed. _He told you about the Epona Charm. He kissed you._

She still wasn't sure about that, but it had been helpful. She felt better.

« You are full of surprises, Miss Granger, » he said, a strange look in his eyes. « But I am accustomed to tend to my wounds alone. »

If he had hoped that this would finally push her out, he was mistaken. He had chosen exactly the wrong words. Hermione couldn't accept that.

Without speaking, she walked forward and took the jar out his of his hand.

« This works well on open wounds, » she whispered. « But you'll need something else for the burns on your back. »

Snape stood motionless as she went to the open cabinet and took out of it an Icing Mixture. He looked right in her honey eyes as she came back towards him, but she didn't lower them. She circled him and and stood behind him. He heard her opening the jar and a moment later he took in his breath sharply as he felt the cold fingers on his skin.

He didn't want to know if he was reacting to the fingers or to the coldness.

As he was still hoping to scare her away, he snapped his fingers and the knife continued his work, leaving him naked in the centre of the room.

Hermione had noticed his challenge, but she didn't feel like accepting it – nor she did want to refuse it. Her eyes and her fingers were caressing his pale skin, and she was so sad, and angry, and sorry to see a body so marked by violence that in her brain there was room for nothing else.

The fluttery feeling of excitement she had sensed in the dungeon was buried deep down.

She healed all the burns on his back and his legs, then came in front of him. As his chest bore only the mark of a large knife, of which Snape had already taken care of, she kneeled in front of him to reach his legs and feet, and the last two burns on his body.

Snape looked down in disbelief at her form crouching between his legs. In his experience, women didn't kneel willingly in front of him. And they certainly didn't care about him being alive or dead.

When she looked up at him and smiled timidly, he saw Cynthia's smile. For the first time after so many years, she was smiling at him. Like she had done at the restaurant, and in the cab, combing his long dark hair with her little fingers.

Seeing the closed look on his face, Hermione got up and took a step back.

« Are you better? » she asked quietly.

Snape made a movement like a dog shrugging off water, and seemed to come to his senses. He passed his hands on his wounds, which were slowly fading on his pale skin, then he snapped his fingers and was suddenly black-clothed again, looking imposing and severe as he always did.

« How are _you_? » he asked seriously, looking at her.

« Fine, » she muttered, surprised that he cared, and deeply relieved to see that haunted look disappear from his eyes.

Snape probed her mind gently. She seemed so fragile that he felt sick with himself.

« I'm sorry about the ordeal you went through tonight, » he said.

« It wasn't your fault. »

« Yes, it was. »

She looked at him curiously.

« I betrayed the Order, » he stated, wondering why he was telling her this.

« I know. », she said, lowering her eyes. « But Professor Lupin said that you could have killed Harry, and you chose not to do it. »

« It's complicated. »

Hermione lowered her eyes. Why was he doing her this? She was on the point of liking him very much and now he was unsettling her again. She put her hands in her hair and started to braid it absent-mindedly.

« Why would you betray them? »

He didn't say anything.

« Is it because they don't like you? » she asked eventually.

Snape smirked, and she was sure he was about to say that he didn't care about that. But what he did say made her heart skip a beat.

« No. Because the Dark Lord would have given me – you. »

**A/N** _Ok, ok, I know...you have a right to hate me and so on...I haven't updated in ? what ? weeks , and the last chapters were a bit confused, not to mention lousy...but my life is complicated at the moment – and this is no excuse, so is yours, and I hate when a story doesn't finish myself...so sorry sorry everyone. There is still one chapter to go, and I will post it over the weekend, I swear. And I'm working on a special project to earn some forgiveness from you...so don't kill me just now, let me finish it... :))_


	18. The Challenge

Part 18 – THE CHALLENGE 

_not a man, but - a cloud in trousers!_

Snape was almost pleased to see the look on her face as she took another step back. He thought about closing the distance between them, to scare her, but he was too tired of that game. And of course, she didn't deserve it, did she? Of course she didn't. He went to sit on the desk behind him.

« You were the way to get the book, » he explained dryly.

« The red one? »

He almost chuckled. She was quick.

« The red one, » he acknowledged with a small smile.

Hermione had stopped her braid half-way and was looking at him hungrily.

« What book was that? »

« Rasputin's Diary »

To his satsifaction, her expression grew hungrier, but also a little scared. Of course she would have read about it.

Answering all her questions, he summed up the story for her. He refused point-blank, though, to explain how he had broken through six of the seven wards.

« You are too young to know, » he said, passing his finger on an old scar on his palm.

« I was old enough to have sex, » she said boldly.

« Sex is a game, » was his answer. « Dark Magic is an enslavement. »

Hermione fell silent at once.

Snape looked at her, thinking that, once again, he's fooling her. Sex should be a game, he should have said. It often isn't, and what happened tonight between them certainly wasn't. It was terrible. Yet, he'd enjoyed it. He closed his hands into fists.

_I truly am a horrible person_, he thought.

He was still looking at the girl, lost in his thoughts, when he saw her blush. And he remembered. He heard her laugh during...during that. Has she enjoyed it as well? A gentle heat started on his neck, as he was wondering if-

In that moment, Fawkes flew out of the empty rug and circled twice round Snape's head. His thoughts were sharply interrupted.

« The people of the Order are here, » he said wearily, as the bird disapperead.

« Are they- Are they going to punish you? » she asked timidly.

« Don't worry. The Headmaster is no Dark Lord. »

He stood up and went to the rug, throwing some Floo powder inside it. With a wave of his hand, he desactivated the wards on his door.

« Go back to Gryffindor tower and have some sleep, » he told her harshly.

But when she came towards him, saying very unsteadily something that could have been, _Take care_, he kissed lightly her forehead before stepping in the green flames.

For some reason, they both felt that simple kiss was far more intimate than whatever they'd shared before, and the feeling was unsettling.

Hermione couldn't leave immediately. She spent one or two hours sitting in one of Snape's armchairs, breathing in his smell and gazing absent-mindedly at a volume of Russian poetry she had found on the floor. She had deciphered the title, _Mayakovska stikhi_, but nothing else.

As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, she got to her feet, and a bit of parchment fell out of the book. She picked it up, smiling at the familiar untidy writing.

_Your thoughts, musing on a sodden brain_

_like a bloated lackey on a greasy couch,_

_with my heart's bloody tatters I'll mock again;_

_impudent and caustic, I'll jeer to superfluity._

_No grey hairs streak my soul,_

_no grandfatherly fondness there!_

_Thundering the world with the might of my voice,_

_I go by -- handsome, twenty-two-year-old._

_Gentle ones! You play your love on a fiddle,_

_and the crude club their love on a drum._

_but you can't, like me, turn inside out entirely,_

_and nothing but human lips become!_

_Out of chintz-covered drawing-rooms,_

_come and learn - decorous bureaucrats of angelic leagues,_

_and you whose lips are calmly thumbed,_

_as a cook turns over cookery-book leaves._

_If you wish, I shall rage on raw meat;_

_or, as the sky changes its hue,_

_if you wish, I shall grow irreproachably tender:_

_not a man, but - a cloud in trousers!_

It was clearly Snape's translation of one of the poems. She had the strangest feeling – like he had wanted her to find it. She pocketed it and stirred.

He hadn't come back. She went back slowly to the Tower to find it empty.

Over her bed was Hedvig, looking almost comically anxious. Evidently the wards on Snape's room had prevented the owl to find her. She hooted happily when Hermione detached gently the note tied to her leg.

_Hermione – hope you're alright. Am at Hogwarts, but must stay with the Order guys. Snape and Dumbledore found a way, it's for tonight._

_I didn't want to leave you alone, but Ron and Ginny went back to the Headquarters after you were caught, and Dumbledore sent a note to the families saying to keep everybody home for another night._

_See you in the morning._

_Love,_

_Harry_

Hermione read it twice, biting her lower lip. _See you in the morning_.

After that sentence there was a word half-erased, but she couldn't understand what it was. Taking the parchment to her desk, she rubbed her Revealer over it, and she gasped.

_If I'm killed, don't go back home. Krum is ready to take you in._

Why had he erased this sentence? Maybe he had decided that it would worry her for nothing, either because Professor Dumbledore was sure to win, or because Voldemort would found her anyway. Or maybe his boyish spirit had resurfaced at the last moment, and he had though it too sentimental.

She started to cry, and Hedvig came down in her arms, hooting softly and rubbing her feathery body against hers. Hermione stroked her gently and paced through her room, trying to calm down.

What were they doing? Where had they gone? She wanted to fight, she wanted to be with Harry – and at the same time, she was afraid, the memory of the Auror's tortured voice filling her ears. She felt angry at being left behind, and she felt relieved for being left behind. As she watched the night outside her window, a calm, indifferent night like a tousand of other ones, the guilt inside her was so strong she couldn't breathe.

_No point_, she told herself firmly. _Pace. Breathe. No point._

Her rational part was right – they were gone, worry and guilt were useless. She trusted Dumbledore, she trusted Harry. She would stay here, and wait till dawn. Then, if she didn't see anything from them, she would find a way to London, to Krum's flat. A smile forced its way on her lips as the memory of Victor Krum resurfaced. Hermione allowed herself to get lost on the feeling of his kisses, of his skin...

His skin? 

Hermione snapped back to reality. She hadn't done anything with him, how could she – and then she blushed. She wasn't thinking about Victor's skin, but about Snape's.

Professor _Snape_, she reminded herself. _What has happened doesn't change anything_.

She went to the window and opened it, the cold winter air making her tremble. He was outside somewhere, with Harry and the others. Nothing she could do about that, either. And what did it matter, anyway? She was worried about Harry – he was her best friend. And she was worried about Professor Dumbledore, because – because, well, one had to. He was so kind to them all, and so powerful and wise. Whereas Snape was just that – Snape. A teacher who'd been mean with her, a man she'd been forced to be with. He'd been kind enough afterwards, but he would surely be back to normal next week, when lessons would start again. Because lessons would start again, and he'd be there, cruel and black-clothed as usual. No need worrying about him. No need. And yet...

Hermione stopped her pacing abruptly, and went through the Portrait door, heading for the Hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey, who wasn't sleeping either, saw her coming in without a word, and set her to check on four simmering cauldrons in her laboratory. She was making ready for the wounded.

If Harry succeded.

« Of course, St. Mungo will probably take them all, » she said briskly to Hermione, « but... »

Hermione looked at her, and understood what she meant. St. Mungo could have been destroyed. Or Professor Dumbledore could wish that some wounds and curses shouldn't be under the eyes of Ministry representatives.

Keeping her silence, she started to work, adding ingredients, stirring, lowering the fires and bottling the potions.

At dawn, she felt like a zombie. She couldn't stay awake any longer, but she couldn't sleep. She went out in the corridor, thinking to go towards Dumbledore's office, but her legs had a different idea.

Without even breathing, she pushed open the door of Snape's quarters and sat down on his bed, waiting.

As long minutes passed, she bent her head on her arms, and eventually fell asleep.

When she looked back, she found that she couldn't remember exactly what had happened. She had awoken to find Snape asleep besides her, his head heavily bandaged. The clear light of day was pouring in, and as she was breathing it mercifully, gazing at the sun reflected on the lake, he had stirred, and had looked at her without a hint of surprise in his eyes.

In a purely Snapeish style he only told her what was essential to know.

The battle had been won. The Dark Lord was dead.

He had looked away from her then, and his words had rang in her brain, beautiful and somehow terrible. Everything was finished. Everything. Hermione had stared at his sharp profile pervaded in light, and had lost the sense of time. She didn't know that Snape could feel every breath she took, every tiny movement of her body as she still lay on his bed. He wasn't looking at her, but he sensed her looking at him, and he sensed her whole body trembling as she unconsciously waited for him to do something. She wasn't old enough to understand that she was waiting for a gesture from him, but he was. He was.

And then the moment ended.

Like in a dream, Hermione had come back to the Gryffindor Tower, and had found everybody there, talking and eating and drinking large mugs of Butterbeer. Harry had given her a knowing look, but nobody had asked her where she'd been.

Days and weeks and months had passed, and things had gone slowly back to normal.

Well, except for one thing.

Snape was still horrible and sour with everybody, but sometimes he would look at her in a most peculiar way, half-curious and half-surprised. There was a challenge in his eyes.

Hermione had the feeling that he was waiting for her to grow up before speaking that challenge out loud, and was really looking forward to hear it.

THE END

**_A/N_** _Mmh, I hope this didn't disappoint you too much...as I said, I wanted this love story to be unusual, I hope I succeeded. After all, I don't really believe to a canon love story between Hermione and Snape. I don't care about the age difference, but Hermione, for all her brightness, can't handle such a personality. Snape must learn a lot before being ready for a story with a person so young and unexperienced. Or maybe JKR is right, and he doesn't need to learn anything – he's mean, period. Two months till HBP...I really can't wait...just hope we'll finally know something useful..._

_So, this is the end – a moment for general thanking and patting each other's backs. So let's do it. :) Thank you to Oscar Wilde, who gave me the title and much more (and I don't care about age difference, Alan Rickman, death and such – _this_ is a man I'd do anything to spend one hour of my time with...sigh...); to Mayakoskj, who unknowingly gave me the plot, and whose poetry I hope one day to read in Russian; to Fayth for that marvellous challenge and for having checked through the first chapters ; to my grandmother (yes, this is really strange, but actually Knacklebolt's voice is one of her own memories from the WW2 – as we're celebrating the 60th anniversary of its end, let's thank, for once, the Russians, who had the worst losses – 11 millions dead – and are never thanked ; and, I'm against Stalin and all, of course, and I know you American guys don't believe a word of this, but if the Russians had lost in Stalingrad, the history of the world would have greatly changed...); and, guys, to everybody who reviewed – you don't know what it means to me – well, maybe you do know, since every fanfic writer bores you to death with this, and many of you write fics of their own. But the main reason I'm happy to hear that you liked this story is my unexperienced play with English language – if I think that four years ago I was deciphering _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ with the unwilling aid of a large dictionary..._

_Oh, and last thing: I have a surprise for you, a story I'm taking much pleasure in writing... It's called _Did You Say Labyrinth?_ and will hopefully be published starting May 31st. The nice thing about it is that...you can actually choose what you want to do, where you want to go and whom to trust. At the end of each chapter you'll have two or three choices, and let's hope you choose wisely, since not all possible ends are nice..._

_Hoping to see you all in some weeks, deeply, truthly, unashamedly yours_

_chrusotoxos_


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